The Horse that Stole the Boy
by Rose and Psyche
Summary: Susan goes south to see a Prince she doesn't know. Edmund goes with her and nearly has a rather bad time. Peter goes north searching for a giant who gravely insulted him and Lucy stays home, pining away in safety…or is she? To put it all in a nutshell; everybody goes madly around accomplishing very little and being very happy in the end. AU.
1. The Beginning

~o*o~

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><p>The Horse that Stole the Boy<p>

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><p>"Have you given the horse his strength? Have you clothed his neck with thunder?...he paws in the valley and rejoices in his strength…he mocks at fear and is not frightened."<p>

~Job 39: 20-22

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><p>The Beginning<p>

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><p><em>Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. <em>

~ Seneca

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><p>The wind curled down the dewy slopes of Narnia, rippling the grass with a silver sheen and sweeping into the sun dappled forest of bending birches, slender as shadows. It was one of those green spring days, glowing, beautiful, perfect, the kind where everything is done right and you go to bed happy. The kind that you remember for the rest of your life.<p>

Lucy remembered it ever after as a day of supreme happiness. She could throw back her head to the wind and realize that there was nothing wrong with the world. Her horse ambled along; content to snatch at oak leaves and ahead, Susan's long dark hair gleamed down her back.

"_Was_ he planning on being here today?" Eva, lady-in-waiting to Queen Lucy, broke the silence from behind them, jerking her horse's head as it attempted to eat a tree.

"He said he was," Susan said glancing back, "I hope nothing happened…"

"He'll be here!" Lucy exclaimed. "He wouldn't miss the summer festival for anything! Look here, I'll race you!"

With a soft word, she half halted her horse strongly, then the next moment, her bay burst forward, throwing a shower of dead leaves in the still air behind her.

"Of all the…" Eva's horse spun in a circle, "wait for me!"

"I say!" Susan called after them, "Don't leave me behind!"

One by one, first Lucy's bay, then Eva's chestnut, then Susan's black, burst from the woods. Hooves pounding and manes streaming, they streaked across the countryside, lit by the sun. Lucy had a definite lead, Eva was gaining and Susan was lagging more and more behind. Hooves upturned the earth, hair and manes flew; the wind whipped their dresses into a frenzy.

Suddenly, Lucy pulled her horse up sharply, its hind legs furrowing the ground.

"I say!" Eva exclaimed, catching her horse's mane to keep her seat, "I almost ran over you!"

"It's Peter!" Lucy yelled as her horse danced. The next moment, she was galloping again.

Eva remained where she was, waiting for Susan, as her chestnut plunged in a circle, frothing and eager to be on. Over her shoulder, she watched Lucy charge to meet the distant horseman; the horses slowed, and for a moment looked as if they would collide. There was a moment of tossing manes as the horses slid to a halt from a full gallop.

"Is he here? Is he here?" Lucy's voice rang through the air.

"Steady on, Lucy."

"What's happened?" Susan came up behind Eva, "I do hate going that fast, it makes my hair fly out and get in my face."

"It's King Peter," Eva said. "He'll have news."

"I do hope so," Susan said and Eva for the first time saw her voluntarily make her horse gallop. Eva followed. She noted that Peter was riding his newest horse, almost sooty buckskin, its mane frosted with gold.

"What's the news, your majesty?" Eva asked as she pulled her horse up.

"He's here," Peter said, grinning.

Lucy let out a squeal, not at all suited to her twenty-two years.

Susan relaxed visibly, "So he's come safely."

"Very," Peter said, leaning on the saddlebow, "And he's brought the oddest things along with him."

"What?"

"Apple trees."

~o*o~

"Corin!"

A tall fellow with fair hair stood almost awkward in the courtyard, watching while the horses came to a halt, their shoes echoing. Susan jumped from her horse, before Peter could even help her, and enveloped Corin in a hug.

"Lovely, lovely seeing you!" she exclaimed as she looked up at him, her eyes shining with happiness.

"Nice seeing you, too," Corin grinned lopsidedly, then grew serious, "I'm _taller _then you!"

"Of course you are!" Lucy said, sliding from her horse, completely ignoring Peter's attempt to help. "I always said that you would be tall!"

Peter turned to help Eva.

"Not me!" she exclaimed, swinging from her horse and trotting over to hug Corin.

With a shrug, Peter turned to Edmund, who had been standing quietly watching.

"What is the world coming to?" Peter said, "All the ladies can get off their horses by themselves."

"Just less work for us," Edmund said calmly, "I always did think it was a little ridiculous that ladies couldn't get from their horses to the ground without help; hasn't anyone ever heard of gravity?"

"Nope," Peter said, "Hasn't been invented yet."

"Peter said you brought apple trees!" Lucy exclaimed as she linked her arm through Corin's, "Why on earth?"

"Father sent apple trees! He was going to bring them himself, but something came up and he couldn't make it and extends his apologies about the Summer Festival. Anyway, I came by myself. I was telling father that Cair Paravel didn't have apple trees, so he picked the best one's from Cair Anvard's orchard. They're…in fact, there they are!"

The rattle of horses' hooves and creak of wagon wheels echoed off the walls and they looked around to see a team of grays pulling a dray. The driver pulled them up and harness flashed with polished brass work while little scrawny trees poking out of burlap stretched towards the rays of the sun.

"Lovely!" Lucy cried.

"We will have to plant them at once!" Susan said, "Where shall we put them?"

"What about the North Gate?" Edmund suggested, "It did always seem rather bare to me over there."

* * *

><p>"Aravis?"<p>

Aravis looked up to see a figure leaning against the doorframe, silhouetted by the sunlight that streamed into the quiet chamber. He wore mail and a silken turban dyed crimson almost hid the spike of his helmet. For a full moment, Aravis stared at him, then she was on her feet and running forward to embrace him.

"Horeb?" she exclaimed, "Horeb my brother!"

"Yes, little sister," Horeb smiled as he looked down at her, "My journey went well, our father is pleased."

"Good," Aravis smiled and took a step back to see how tall he had grown, how broad his shoulders were, "I hope you will be home for a long while, for I see less of you as the years go by."

"I will be here for a little while, but then I shall go north again and accompany Tam-" he checked himself, "Prince Rabadash on his journey. But quick, I have something for you!"

Beckoning, he turned and Aravis followed him out into the little courtyard that flanked her chambers. She loved it there especially at midday, for the olive trees spread their branches in such a way that the courtyard was always cool.

"Bring the Tarkheena's gift." Horeb called to the slave that waited in the entrance. He bowed then vanished and Horeb turned to Aravis with a smile, "Sister, cover your eyes, if it pleases you."

Aravis closed her eyes as she heard the faint staccato notes of a horse's hooves. They echoed across the paving stones, in rhythm with the water that played from the fountain.

"Aravis," Horeb said, "uncover your eyes."

Aravis looked, and saw, a horse, a mere filly, like gleaming, glowing copper with mane and tail of gold. She had a halter and collar of green and gold, that perfectly set off her color.

Aravis stood for a moment, just staring, taking in the dished head, the short back, the high streaming tail- then she reached out and put a hand on the filly's long arched neck. Wide, white rimmed eyes stared at her luminously and delicate vein-laced ears pricked towards her.

"How fares you, cousin?" Aravis whispered, running her hand down the gleaming neck. The coat was like satin under her fingers. She turned, tears in her eyes, "Horeb! You are the best of brothers!"

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><p>A Note From the Desk of the Author:<p>

Hi folks, yes, unfortunately the time has come when I am going to blast you with my epic. It is the longest story I've ever written, but it will not be the longest for much longer, that lot will fall to another.

Disclaimer: I have a firm disbelief in ghosts, that being so, it is quite impossible for me to believe that I can be someone who died many years ago, namely C. S. Lewis. That being said, I am actually not disclaiming C. S. Lewis at all, I am disclaiming all stories on this site. It stands to reason that the story that I now present to you was written before I knew it existed, therefore, any similarity in plot or character to any other pieces of fanfiction is entirely unintended.

However, there are some similarities to the following works: _The Horse and His Boy_, _The Silver Chair_, _The Iliad_, _Les Miserable_, _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, The Marriage of Sir Gawain_ and _The Hound of Heaven_.

Now I shall sign off and let the story speak for itself. Please, please review, good or bad; I will appreciate it in a very large way.

~Rose and Psyche


	2. The Green Knight

The Green Knight

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><p><em>Great wonder grew in hall<em>

_At his hue most strange to see,_

_For man and gear and all_

_Were green as green could be. _

~ Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

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><p>"Yes your majesties!" Lilygloves, the head of the moles leaned on his spade and looked at them meaningfully, "you'll be right glad of these apple trees someday!"<p>

They had decided to plant the trees down the slope from the North Gate of Cair Paravel. The moles had willingly taken on the job of planting the little trees and they worked busily away, sometimes with spades and sometimes getting right down and digging with their claws. Nearly everyone was outside watching the neat rows of trees grow by the minute.

The dryads were interested in what was happening and they had come out of the woods to watch. Pomona herself, the greatest of all the wood people, had put good spells on the little trees.

After about an hour it had turned into a party and the cooks set up tables and laid out lunch. The moles had a break and dined with the kings and queens along with other people and animals that had dropped in to see what was happening. Martin, a general of Narnia, glared at the festivities with a stony countenance. He did brighten up at the thought of apples, all centaurs adore apples. Flavis, the Narnian historian, was out dancing with the fauns and Equus, the prophet, who had always been more sedate, watched laughing.

Sun and wind danced with the dancers and little birds fluttered through the branches of the new planted trees.

"Just wait until they're grown," Lucy sighed, wiping her hands on her skirt and leaving a smudge of brown dirt.

"You have dirt all over your face, Lucy," Susan said, taking out her handkerchief only to make the smudge worse. "Oh Lucy!"

Lucy laughed, her golden curls dancing. Cair Paravel glowed like copper in the sun and down, far down the cliff below her, the great silver sea rolled on, a limitless stretch of sunlight on sea foam. The sun passed behind a cloud and a shadow crossed the grass.

"There's a sea fog coming in," Susan said quietly, seeing the rolling white mist on the horizon, gradually growing and changing. "We will all catch cold if we stay outside."

They all looked out over the harbor and saw the silver mist gathering low on the glassy water and climbing up the rigging of the ships at anchor. The sun glowed yellow through layers of clouds. The day was getting decidedly gray.

"Does that mean we have to go in?" Edmund asked looking around from where he was showing Corin how to carve a slingshot. Despite all of Edmunds attempts at teaching him, Corin was clumsy with the carving knife.

"Yes," Susan said standing up and smoothing her skirt, "come Corin and Lucy."

Peter stared after her, then looked back, "you heard her," he said, standing up. "Order from the boss."

"Ouch!" Corin said as the knife slipped.

Edmund grumblingly stood up to follow.

"No good arguing with her," Lucy said, climbing down from the table she had been sitting on.

"No good at all," Edmund said, regretfully, then offered her his arm, "She doesn't argue, she just stares meaningfully."

~o*o~

That night a great feast was prepared in honor of Corin. The Great Hall was filled, lights flashed, laughter ran freely. A squirrel choir sang with angelic beauty, their voices soaring to the rooftop. Then the first course was served. Swan, pies, suckling pigs, sweet wine, pyramids of fruit.

"Eustace," Susan exclaimed, "You've outdone yourself!"

"All in honor of Corin," Eustace said, laughing, "Though I must say, it did turn out rather well."

"I say," Edmund said, "This is what I call food."

"Corin?" Peter looked around Lucy at the prince. "It's a two weeks before the festival, and we were going north to a seaport, you don't mind, do you?"

"Course not! That would be corking!" Corin exclaimed. "I was hoping-"

But no one ever knew what Corin was hoping. For at that moment the huge doors at the end of the great hall burst open with a thunderous bang. Silence fell and all eyes turned to see a great someone come through the open doors. No one can blame Susan for screaming at that moment, though she did say afterwards that she should not have.

It was a man on a massive charger. He was a great man, so huge of stature and girth that one would say that he was a giant, but his proportions were not giant like, but manlike. There were very few giants in Narnia, but everyone knew well enough that this was no giant.

His charger, as large as the largest horse and half again, stamped the flagstone's throwing sparks into the air as the great man bowed. He was dressed entirely in green, from the green plume in his green hat to his green boots, as green as the trappings of the horse, as green as the young leaves on the apples trees that had just been planted.

"Where is the captain of this mob!" the green man bellowed, his voice booming through the hall like a trumpet. Several ladies fainted away. "I wish to see him! I've heard of his courage and his might and I wish to see for myself!"

Slowly, Peter rose and stood looking down from the dais at the man, "Sir Knight," He said calmly, his voice echoing as strongly as the green knight's, "I may be called the head of this gathering."

The green knight threw back his head and laughed long and hard, until the crystals on the chandeliers rang in the sunlit air. "You little creature!"

Peter smiled drily, "I believe I'm big enough."

"Well then," the knight wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, "Let me explain my errand, _your highness_." He bowed deeply, "I propose a game! A game in celebration this happy day, for you seem to be happy about something."

"A game?" Peter asked. "What do you propose?" he added cautiously. Something about this green fellow struck a wrong note.

The knight laughed again, "this is my game; someone from your courtwill chop off my head and within a two month's time I will chop off his, and see what mettle he is made of. Now!" he looked piercingly at Peter, "Who dares take up the game?"

A murmur rose through the room and everyone who was armed felt for his weapon. Edmund looked on in silence. There was some devilry afoot, he was sure of it. Peter glanced at him, but could not read his face.

"What foolery!" Susan rose to her feet. "You must be mad, sirrah!"

The green knight leaned back on his horse, "you may think so, little lady," then he looked again at Peter, "Will you take up my game?"

"I think not," Peter said calmly, "I'd rather _not_ misplace my head."

"Are all the knights of Narnia cowards, then?" The Green Knight exclaimed searching the room, "That they would not take up my game? What are men made of? Are they all women? Afraid?"

"No," Peter said calmly, "I believe the knights of Narnia are more cautious then cowardly. You may be able to part with your head without much thought, but we haven't the luxury."

"Ah," the green knight relaxed. Suddenly, with a shout, he seized the ax at his side and swung at Susan where she still stood on the dais. With wide eyes, she saw that knife-like blade descend, then she was suddenly tackled by Eustace and they landed hard. With a gasp Susan looked up and saw Peter standing before her with his sword drawn, staring down at the severed head of the knight, and the knight himself, lying upon the ground.

"Susan!" Eustace sat her up and looked at her closely, "Are you all right?"

Noise erupted in the room like a waterfall. Everyone had stood up, knocking over wineglasses. A whole platter of fruit tipped over and there were oranges bouncing everywhere as Martin the centaur leapt clear over the table, his claymore drawn. Edmund drew his sword with a flourish and Corin was sitting stock still, his face as white as paper.

Susan stayed sitting down, staring as blood spouted green from the severed head of the knight. Suddenly she froze, from beside her, Eustace muttered something under his breath and Peter visibly stiffened. The body was sitting up and its hands reached out and caught up the head, directing it towards the dais.

The eyes opened.

"Forget not, High King Peter!" the head said, the eyes burning green in the pale face, "Within two months' time, ride north, to Ettinsmoor. You will find a green chapel; there I will take what it rightly due me! You must come; your honor is at stake! I am privileged that your hands have taken my head."

Then the knight tucked his head under his arm and clambered to his feet. Deftly, he caught his prancing steed. The horse reared, green trapping fluttering, then galloped from the Great Hall.

The doors slammed shut behind him.

~o*o~

Silence reverberated around the hall at the knell of the closing doors. Stricken eyes from every corner turned to Peter.

"You're not going to take him up on it…are you?" Susan gasped as Eustace helped her to her feet.

"Of course not," Peter said vehemently and a soft sigh of relief rustled through the hall at his words. Lucy thought, though she was never sure, that the world brightened suddenly and the wild trilling of a Narnian sparrow echoed through the opened windows of the Great Hall.

No one dared to speak; it had all seemed too nightmarish, too impossible. Not even the green blood on the floor was left to tell the story, only the nick that Rhindon had sliced out of the corner of the table remained.

"Wow," Corin said softly, "I wish it had been me chopping off that chap's head!"

"No you don't," Lucy said, still greatly disturbed.

* * *

><p>AN: I must remind you as humbly as I know how that this story is AU, so don't expect it to conform to anything. It is the same Universe as my others which means it has Eustace. Hope this won't make it too difficult to bear. It might make it easier if you thought of him as a separate character...

We had a blizzard yesterday which is supposed to be followed up with an ice storm. We haven't lost our power yet, but we still might. If you don't hear from us for a bit, then you'll know what happened. :)

~Psyche


	3. Ahou

Ahou

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><p><em>Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are. <em>

~ Arthur Golden

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><p>Aravis, dusty from riding, climbed the wooden steps and walked down the corridor to the room where her father did his important business.<p>

Riding. She had named the filly Ahou, _Deer_, and what a horse she was.

As she rounded the corner, she felt her body remembering her filly's leaping gait the same way the body remembers the surge of the sea in sleep. She thought that truly she had learned more on Ahou then she learned on any other horse. When she first rode Ahou, she had expected energy and exuberance, but not the wild bucks the filly threw as she crow-hopped around the paddock. It had been inevitable that Aravis would lose her balance and bite the dirt. Aravis was scrambling to her feet in a moment. Falling was no dishonor, but staying down, now that was disgrace. Clenching her teeth, Aravis caught the wild thing and flung herself aboard, expecting the bucking to begin anew.

It did not. With a snort, Ahou circled the paddock at a dead gallop, then cut clear across it, bunched herself together and cleared the top rail of the fence with room to spare. Sand scattered as she landed, then she settled down to really run. Aravis' legs hugged the filly's sides, feeling the wild, fluid motion of her gait. She delighted in it, never had she ridden a horse quite like this one, never had she felt so wonderful…except when Ahou stopped in midstride and bent her neck. Aravis somersaulted into the air.

After that day, she never threw Aravis again or bolted for no reason. She never spooked and was bolder then other horses, plunging right into things like Aravis did herself. Aravis learned to trust Ahou like she trusted no other.

Aravis came to the door and found it open. She dropped into a deep Calormene curtsey and rose slowly to her feet. Looking up, she saw with surprise that her father was not alone. Her stepmother was there as well, and a stranger…

Ahoshta Tarkaan sat on cushions before her, running his fingers through his thin gray beard. He was at least sixty years old, though he looked older and had a hump on his back. She had seen him once before many years ago when she visited Tashbaan with her father. She knew him to be the grand vizier of Calormen, though he had only reached his lofty position by lies, trickery and flattery.

"This is the delight of my eyes, my daughter, Aravis," her father spoke slowly.

"Charmed," Ahoshta said quietly.

~o*o~

That night, Aravis was dressed in her finest silk and she dined with her father, her brother Horeb, her Stepmother and the Grand Vizier, Ahoshta. They reclined at the table listening to the silk drape across the door rustled by the night wind and the call of the night birds that coursed the skies in the dark.

The slave girls were shadowed by another curtain as they drew their bows across their instruments and played for those that dined. Candles were lit and flickered by the breeze and shadows danced across the walls, wild as the music.

Aravis watched Ahoshta with disgust and incredulity. He talked loudly, his voice high and whining as the fly that skipped across the ceiling. And as Aravis watched him, she pitied the wife who had died and left him and she pitied the girls in his harem in Tashbaan. At least he was not staying long; he would be gone in the morning.

Aravis turned her eyes to Horeb her brother. He only toyed with his food and did not join in the conversation. With shock, Aravis read a look of deep sadness in his eyes.

"Horeb, my brother," Aravis said quietly, "The world is dark in your eyes, what is wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Horeb smiled, looking at her. "Tell me sister, how do you find the filly I have given you? Have you named her?"

"I call her Ahou, because she is as fleet as the desert wind. When she runs, she skims above the ground like an eagle on the wing. I love her like a sister," Aravis whispered. "I cannot thank you enough for her."

"I hoped that you would like her," Horeb said quietly, "She will be a friend and companion in both the darkness and the light."

~o*o~

"Oh my daughter and the delight of my eyes," The next morning Kidrash Tarkaan leaned back in his chair and looked at his daughter meaningfully. He was advanced in years, but in his younger days, no young Tarkaan ever won more honors or commanded higher respect. Now, he was a good master and his people adored him even over the Tisroc (may he live forever).

Aravis sank into a deep curtsy, then stood before her father. Her stepmother sat beside him, watching her stepdaughter with eyes that gleamed like a snake. Her slender fingers tapped her chair arm and Aravis' eyes were drawn to her fingernails, painted red as blood with the henna that spiraled up her arms. She was only thirteen years older than Aravis and before she married Kidrash, Aravis often fancied that they might be friends. It never came to pass.

"Ahoshta Tarkaan," Kidrash said at last, breaking the silence the way one breaks a glass, "is delighted with your beauty and discretion and he asks for your hand in marriage."

For a full minute, Aravis stood, soaking in what her father had said. At last her numbed brain began to work. Ahosta? That camel? That goat? Marry him? Impossible! All her dreams of happiness would be shattered and swept away, the way a broken glass is swept into the fire. Aravis' hand flew to her mouth and she stared at him incredulously.

"Refusing him would bode ruin," her father continued, "I have meditated deeply and I have decided to accept his proposition."

A wave of horror washed over Aravis and her head suddenly felt light. The room seemed as unsteady as the great cabin in a ship on a stormy day. Without asking permission, she knelt on the floor, shaking.

"The wedding will be held in midsummer."

"But, you cannot!" Aravis voice burst from her at last. She sought her father's eyes, begging him with everything in her. But he would not meet her gaze. "Oh my father!"

With a rustling of scented silk, Aravis' stepmother rose to her feet. She was a tall woman, far taller than Aravis, and beautiful, as beautiful and imperial as the Temple of Tash.

"Daughter, the world is dark in my eyes when you speak in such a manner to your father," she said icily. "He decides what is best and has complete right to do so."

~o*o~

Aravis wept for a day and would not be consoled. Even her younger brother, Birol could not bring a smile to her face. To add sorrow to sorrow, Horeb departed for the North.

"Prince Rabadash is going to a distant and barbarian land," Horeb explained, "he wanted me with him."

At the news Aravis wept the more.

"When you return, I shall be the wife of that detestable Ahosta," Aravis whispered.

"Aravis," Horeb said gently, "No matter whose wife you become, you shall _always_ be my beloved sister."

"Thank you Horeb," Aravis said, "the gods be with you."

"Thank you and farewell."

And he was gone.

~o*o~

"Come Aravis," Birol said, leaning from her window and watching as his brother became a distant shadow among his gentlemen as they rode towards Tashbaan, "Come down and have some sherbet."

"No," Aravis said, "Go away."

Birol shrugged and went to the door, "I'm only trying to help, Aravis."

Aravis buried her face in her pillow and conjured up more tears.

"Birol, I am sorry, Forgive me for my harsh words," Aravis whispered. "But my life has broken."

That night wore on, long and longer. She watched the moon flicker silver through the latticework of her window and wondered if her brother Horeb looked upon the same moon and thought of her. Then she thought of Ahoshta and knew that he might be looking at it also. At last she could bear it no longer. When she turned twelve with the falling of the leaves, Horeb had given her a little ivory handled knife with a curving blade. She felt under her pillow for it and lay looking at it, turning it over and over and watching the carvings almost seem to dance in the moonlight. Horeb was a rare artist and he had made the knife himself. At last she could bear it no more and tucking the dagger into her clothes, she slipped out her window.

The moon was glowing, silver, there almost seemed to be a face upon it, smirking at her. She slipped away from the palace, to the stables. It was frightening, strange, she had never set foot in the stables before and she almost forgot her grief as she crept in fascination down the aisle.

She heard a soft whicker and saw Ahou, staring wide-eyed at her out of her stall. She seemed almost silver in the moonlight, instead of gold. Aravis slid open the stall door and stepped inside. She buried her face in the filly's silky mane and wept again.

"Oh my sister," She whispered, "great woe has befallen me."

She took Ahou by the forelock and led her out of the stall and down the long aisle of the stable. Once she was in the courtyard, she swung astride and urged Ahou to a gallop.

The filly stretched out, long and low upon the ground, her ears back as if she were fleeing and Aravis stretched out upon her neck, clutching her mane with cold, frightened hands. It was a moment of unreality, a moment of noticing nothing but the filly herself and her gliding gait that seemed to be wilder then anything Aravis had known. She had no control over her, no way to slow her headlong dash and she could merely hold on.

It seemed like hours, though it was only minutes, when the filly slowed and skipped to a halt, breathing hard. Aravis pulled her hands from the filly's mane and found them covered with foam. She slid from Ahou's back and stood for a moment, holding the filly's withers for balance, then she stepped away, drew her dagger and watched the moonlight gleam upon it. It was fitting; very fitting that it had been fashioned by her beloved brother. Then she bared her chest, closed her eyes and prepared to drive the dagger into her heart.

"Oh my mistress!" a voice exclaimed, "Do not destroy yourself!"

Aravis opened her eyes and glanced around herself, but saw nothing but the filly standing before her, her ears pricked forward, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Who has so spoken?" Aravis exclaimed.

"It was I," a gentle voice came from the darkness, "I pray you; do not destroy yourself, for if you live you may still have good fortune!"

Aravis lowered the dagger and stared again into the darkness, "You who has spoken, I pray thee, show yourself!"

"It was I."

The filly took a step forward.

"Show yourself, I pray thee," Aravis' hands shook with fright and her heart leaped against her ribs as she searched the darkness wildly for some shape or form lurking near her.

"It was I, Ahou." The voice came again, with a hint of puzzlement. "Your horse."

"Impossible!" Aravis exclaimed, "Whatever ghoul or phantasm you are, show yourself."

And the filly stepped forward and laid her head against Aravis' shoulder.

"Please, believe me, my lady," she said softly, "It was I and only I."

And at last Aravis saw that it was indeed the filly who had spoken and she stared in shock and disbelief.

"How is this?" she exclaimed, "That a horse speaks with the voice of the daughters of men?"

"Far to the north of this accursed place is a country named Narnia." Ahou said. "There wisely rules Peter the High King and his brother and sisters. There also are beasts which talk and fusions of man and beast named centaurs and satyrs and other curious beings. There are green hills and deep cool woods and there are great fields of green. Three years ago my mother, my father and I traveled to Archenland (The land to the south of Narnia and the north of Calormen) and resided there with my grandmother. During that time I ranged too far south, was captured by Calormenes and was sold into slavery."

"How horrible!" Aravis exclaimed. "How could such a wrong have been committed?"

"I have not spoken thus for your sympathy, oh my mistress, but for your comfort," Ahou said, "For in this place, this land of Narnia, no maiden is forced to marry against her will."

"Oh, that I could traverse to this wonderful place!" Aravis exclaimed.

"And perhaps you may." Ahou said, "Do not destroy yourself, oh my mistress, but escape and travel to this land. By the way, as much as I admire the name 'Ahou', my mother called me 'Hwin'."

"Hwin," Aravis said quietly, "It's a lovely name."

* * *

><p>AN: it ought to be noted that C. S. Lewis was absolutly clueless when it came to horses...some of Bree's suggestions on riding are the height of foolery. Gripping a horse with your legs as hard as you like is a good idea if you want to end up in a ditch with a broken neck. I had an unfortunate episode on a half thorougbred where I gripped and he took off at a gallop...bad idea. The secret to good riding is ballance.

~Psyche

Old Fashioned Girl has got me writing Limericks, Here's mine:

A review, a review, please leave one for me,

And more than delighted I will be.

Reviews can be good,

They can also be bad,

But reviews, good or bad, are reviews, don't you see?


	4. First Impressions

First Impressions

* * *

><p><em>It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.<em>

~ Jane Austen

* * *

><p>The next occurrence that drastically shaped the lives of the tetrarchs arrived a week later, at Cair Paravel, while they were away from the castle visiting a seaport in the north.<p>

"What on earth?" Eva leaned over the parapet staring into the distance at a ship of lateen rig, "Lord Eustace, is that a war ship?"

She had been walking on the battlement, taking the air after a very long go of cleaning Lucy's chambers. She felt she deserved a rest and as she stood looking over the harbor, she had seen the ship. Eustace had happened to be coming the other way when she'd seen it. A moment more and two other ships of similar build were sailing after it.

"I say, yes it is!" Eustace peered at the strange ships, wishing he had a pair of binoculars, "They come in peace, as they fly white flags, but I can't make out the device on the banner above them. It looks like some sort of spider…"

"It does look like a spider…" Eva said, "Black on a red ground, though it could be a dragon. It seems to have more than four legs…"

"Well," Eustace said calmly, "Here comes Flavis; I'll send him out with a troop to meet them."

"You've seen it, Eustace?" Flavis asked coming up the steps to where they stood, leaping eight steps at a time.

"I have," Eustace said, "Would you mind taking a troop of centaurs and meeting them?"

"Certainly," Flavis said. "I'd be delighted."

"Better you than Martin," Eustace said, grinning.

Flavis leaped back down the steps and in a moment more, was out of sight, but they could still hear him as he thundered towards the guardhouse.

Looking back towards the harbor, Eva saw that the arrival of the strange ships had gathered people like a magnet. A great crowd had assembled on the wharves watching as two of the frigates in the harbor got underway to intercept the stranger. If it came to a fight, it would never do to have anchors on the bottom and no sail made.

The troop of centaurs Eustace had sent out cleared the wharves, putting up red tape and keeping the vendors that had shown up with the crowd from setting up in the shipyard. Slowly and majestically the Narnian frigates hove to near the flagship of the strange fleet and one lowered a dingy. The watchers at the castle could see the oars rising and falling like the legs of a water bug. Presently, it came alongside the flagship and the lieutenant that the Narnian captain had sent was climbing up to speak to the Captain of the flagship. Not long after, he was climbing down again and the dingy cast off from the ship.

Eva watched the steady flash of the oars as the dingy approached the shore, it was tied up at the wharf and one of the centaurs broke from the group and made all speed back toward the castle.

"Here he blows," Eustace said, "We'll know in a minute what it's about."

"I certainly hope they're not unpleasant." Eva said, watching while the gate opened slowly, letting the centaur in.

"I wish the others were here," Eustace said, trotting down the steps from the parapet to meet the centaur.

"Lord…Eustace…" the centaur gasped.

"Catch your breath, man," Eustace said quietly, "The news can wait."

The centaur stood for a moment, legs splayed, gasping. Galloping at thirty miles an hour up a switchback road on a slope nearly a half mile long is an impressive feat.

"Lord Eustace!" The centaur finally exclaimed, "It's a Calormene embassy! They claim that they said they were coming, but as far as I know we have not ever received communications from them."

"A Calormene embassy?" Eustace exclaimed, "Why?"

"The crown Prince of Calormen is here to sue for Queen Susan's hand!"

"Never!" Eva exclaimed.

"Well," Eustace said, "I suppose we'll have to allow them to land."

They watched the stern of the centaur disappear from view as he turned the corner at a breakneck speed.

"What will you do?" Eva exclaimed hurrying after Eustace as he set off towards the palace.

"What I'd do with any other embassy." Eustace said calmly. "Come along, I'll need your help."

~o*o~

Eva didn't really help at all; she spent most of her time staring out the window as the Calormene vessels carefully felt their way into port and were tied up at the wharves. The unloading of the horses was the most fascinating thing, watching the tiny legs on some straight as toothpicks, thrashing on others and just dangling limp on most.

The cavalcade of tarkaans and tarkheenas came next, the tarkheenas all carried down the gangplank on litters. The Tarkaans themselves mounting their steeds once they reached dry land. It was more than obvious that none of them had gotten their land legs back. Even the horses seemed to find the earth more precarious then usual and walked with all legs splayed.

Eva's maid whisked her away from the window and poured a green silk dress over her.

"Lord Eustace says that you are to be presentable." The maid said pleasantly, "He wants you there when he greets the Calormens."

"I'm probably late already," Eva said, snatching herself away from the maid and dashing out the door. Eustace would probably greet them in the throne room, because that was where most formal greetings were held.

The closer she got, the surer she was that she was late, so she took a short cut and dashed through a little used side door.

She found herself in the Throne Room, looking upon Eustace standing just before the dais. In front of him stood a tall, dark and young man, impressively flanked by tarkaans, one of which had just rolled up an impressive scroll and Eva imagined that it contained all of Prince Rabidash's names and several paragraphs of greetings.

Eva stood by the dais, not wanting to walk to where the other ladies and gentleman of the court stood and attract attention. Flavis looked around and caught her eye meaningfully, and Eva full well knew that she shouldn't have been standing by the dais. With sudden shock, she realized that she had used the entrance reserved for the kings and queens.

_How could I have been such an idiot?_ She wondered as she stood there uncertainly wishing with all her heart that she could sink into the floor. The young man looked around and caught sight of her, with a smile; he strode over to her and bowed very low over her hand. Eva snatched it away as if she had been bitten, panic rising in her throat. She wondered what would happen if she started running and never came back.

"Ah! You must be the gentle and exceedingly beautiful Queen Susan!" he exclaimed.

The tarkaans around him made faces and the people of the court sighed with horror. Eva was incensed. _How can this man possibly, possibly dream that I'm Queen Susan? Ugly little me? How dare he? _

"My dear young man," Eva snapped, "I'm not beautiful, I'm not gentle and I'm not Queen Susan!" she stood there glowering at him and suddenly grabbed a lock of her hair and waved it in his face, "what color do you think this is, anyway? Queen Susan has black hair, not red hair! Or are you colorblind?"

Eustace slowly closed his eyes and the tarkaans around the young man were rolling theirs. The young man himself gaped at her and as Eva's head began to clear it suddenly occurred to that she had stood there and insulted the royalty of another nation.

"Sorry." She whispered and wildly wondered why throne rooms weren't equipped with hidden trap doors for people who made total and complete idiots of themselves at regular intervals.

Flavis, who was standing on the other side of Eustace, stamped his hoof, and Eustace, drawing strength from Flavis, cleared his throat and said:

"I am Lord Eustace, the seneschal of the tetrarchs; I welcome you to our land and trust that you will enjoy your stay here. The tetrarchs are currently in the north, but all haste will be made to enlighten them of your arrival."

The young man, now hiding a smile, bowed again, "We thank you from the bottom of our heart."

~o*o~

"Eva…Eva…Eva…" Eustace paused, struggling with the depth of his feeling, "do you realize that what you said could have caused war between us and Calormen?"

"I really _am_ sorry!" Eva exclaimed, "I didn't realized until after, just what I'd said!"

"Maybe you should try realizing beforehand," Eustace suggested.

"Please don't be mad at me!" Eva exclaimed.

"I won't be," Eustace said, then smiled evilly, "I'm just going to tell our dear rulers."

"You wouldn't!" Eva exclaimed.

"I would."

"I thought you were my friend!"

"And I thought you were mine."

* * *

><p>AN: Bear with Eva, she's a little strange. She's been in existence since even before the first movie came out. So, to me at least, she's almost as old a character as the Pevensies. If you want to know what strange corner of the earth was concealing something like her, read _The Enchanted Isle_.

She's Rose's creation, but I think we both had a hand in her development.

~Psyche


	5. Deception

Deception

* * *

><p><em>We are never deceived; we deceive ourselves. <em>

~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

* * *

><p>"Oh my father and Oh the delight of my eyes," Aravis dropped into a deep curtsey. "I am greatly pleased and delighted with the prospect of marriage to Ahoshta Tarkaan," Aravis nearly choked, "and the world appears bright in my eyes. Give me your license and permission to go three days with my maidens into the woods to perform the secret sacrifices of Zardeenah, Lady of the Night, as it is proper and customary for maidens who must leave the service of Zardeenah and prepare themselves for marriage."<p>

And Kidrash Tarkaan looked upon his daughter with delight and relief and said, "Oh my daughter and oh the delight of my eyes, so shall it be."

~o*o~

Aravis stood before him, tall and straight like her mother had been before her. He remembered her mother, he remembered Aravis, how he had dandled her on his knee when she was only a babe, how he loved her more than the air and the light.

"Oh my mistress, and Oh the delight of my eyes," He said, "Tell me what brings your fair feet to this humble room."

"Nithtash," Aravis said, "You are my father's chief scribe and I wish it that you would write me a certain letter," then she dropped on her knees before him, "Nithtash, you have loved me like a daughter, can I trust you to keep my secret?"

Nithtash looked at her for a moment, at that open face, the skin like creamy coffee, beautiful and dark; full of mystery.

"Oh the delight of my eyes," he said quietly, "Tell me your secret and know I will tell it to no one."

"I am going to run away." Aravis said lowering her voice even more.

"Oh the delight of my eyes!" he rose to his feet, "May this not be!"

"I must. As you know I must marry Ahoshta and the thought loathes me. I have with me my mare, a true talking beast of Narnia and it is there that we will flee, for no maiden is ever forced to marry against her will in that blesséd place."

"Oh the delight of my eyes!" Nithtash said heavily, "Tell me that you will not do this thing!"

"I must," Aravis said earnestly, "Please, write for me a letter. When you have written it, give it to me and I will post it when I reach Azim Balda. With the grace of the gods, it will arrive seven days after I have gone, by that time I shall be far away."

"Very well," Nithtash said.

Once again, Aravis felt a little girl as she fetched him quills, sharpened them and mixed his ink with the mortar and pestle. She would sit next to him and watch his elegant writing flow from his pen as beautiful as a vine in summer.

"Tell me then," Nithtash said, "Tell me what it is that you would have me write."

Aravis rocked back on her heels and looked at the ceiling, then said.

"Ahoshta Tarkaan to Kidrash Tarkaan, salutations and peace…have you got 'salutations'?...In the name of Tash, the irresistible, the inexorable. Be it known to you that as I made my journey toward your house to perform the contract of marriage between me and you daughter Aravis Tarkheena, it pleased fortune and the gods that I fell in with her in the forest when she had ended the rites and sacrifices of Zardeenah according to the custom of maidens. And when I learned who she was, being delighted with her beauty and discretion, I became inflamed with love and it appeared to me that the sun would be dark to me if I did not marry her at once. Accordingly I prepared the necessary sacrifices and married your daughter the same hour that I met her and have returned with her to my own house. And we both pray and charge you to come hither as speedily as you may that we may be delighted with your face and speech; and also that you may bring with you the dowry of my wife, which, by reason of my great charges and expenses, I require without delay, and because thou and I are brothers I assure myself that you will not be angered by the haste of my marriage which is wholly occasioned by the great love I bear your daughter. And I commit you to the care of all the gods."

~o*o~

That evening Aravis charged one of her maids to wake her very early in the morning. All had been prepared for their departure. The maidens would go with her into the forest. It was the custom that the maiden to be married would leave very early with her maids, before the sun even rose. So they departed, their horses having been saddled and the pack horse following dutifully, baring the sacrifices that would be made.

They remained there in the woods, for three days, sacrificing and performing the rituals of Zardeenah, lady of the night.

~o*o~

Since the sacrificing was performed during the night and they slept during the day, it was no trouble for Aravis to rise and saddle Hwin in the morning of the third day, before the others awoke.

She took what previsions she needed from the pack of the packhorse, also a roll of old armor of her brother's that she had concealed there before they left. She had convinced her maids that she had brought it and the scimitar for protection should they meet any wild beasts or men of the road. Then she mounted Hwin and departed.

"Which way do we go?" Aravis asked of Hwin as soon as they were well away.

"To the North, naturally," Hwin said sarcastically.

"I don't know which way is north."

"I do."

* * *

><p>AN: This is short and there also isn't much more to it than was in the book. So here it is. Hopefully the next chapter is more interesting. :)


	6. Lasaraleen Tarkheena

Lasaraleen Tarkheena

* * *

><p><em>I've been looking for a girl like you – not you, but a girl like you.<em>

~ Groucho Marx

* * *

><p>They arrived at Cair Paravel one week after the arrival of Prince Rabadash, as Peter refused to have his trip hurried by the unexpected appearance of some unknown personage.<p>

"He sort of invited himself," he said, "I don't mind people who invite themselves, but inviting yourself when we're not home is a little over the top."

It was early morning when they arrived. The echoing of horses hooves brought people and creatures from every end of the castle. The rush of livestock and cheering drowned out everything.

Eva hadn't stopped running since she had leaned out of her window and seen them coming. Now she fought her way through the crowd, narrowly avoiding getting stepped on by a giant. Eustace was blazing his way through the crowd like a ship at sea and Eva fell into his wake with relief.

The monarchs had all come on horseback and Eva could see that Edmund's tall chestnut was beginning to dance about in excitement. Peter's horse, Mystic, stood like a rock, while people pressed against its sides, asking the king if he'd had a good time.

"Couldn't have been better," Peter yelled, trying to make himself heard.

"We went windsurfing…spectacular!...wish father had been there!" Eva could just hear snatches of what Corin was excitedly shouting to Lord Peridan as he pushed his way next to Corin's horse.

"Your majesty!" the press of the crowd caught Eva and rammed her against Lucy's horse. "How are you?"

"Doing better than you are," Lucy called after her as she was swept away again.

"All right people, clear out!" Eustace bellowed, cupping his hands to his mouth, "At least give them room to dismount!"

The crowd fell back, but eager faces still shined with happiness at the sight of their kings and queens.

"So what is this I hear about someone named Rabadash?" Peter asked Eustace quietly as he swung off his horse.

"He arrived." Eustace said, "The Calormens are offering us new trade agreements. They want us to lower the tariffs on Calormene imports."

"What's the thing about Susan?" Edmund asked.

Eustace shrugged and Susan raised an eyebrow.

"Your majesties?"

A new voice with a heavy, exotic accent made them all turn. It was a young man in simple, but expensive clothes; he had a proud look about him, but not arrogant and his smile, Lucy decided, was very nice.

"High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund, Queen Lucy of Narnia and Prince Corin, Crown Prince of Archenland," Eustace said, bowing, "Let me present to you, Prince Rabadash, Crown Prince of Calormen."

"The man himself, eh?" Peter asked smiling, "Honored to meet you, your highness."

He pulled off a dusty riding glove and shook Rabadash's hand for him.

"Thank you, your majesty," Rabadash bowed deeply. He was a little taken off guard by this new mode of salutation.

"You and yours are very welcome," Susan said in her quiet voice, "As long as you are here, our home is yours."

~o*o~

The tetrarchs' official meeting of Rabadash went off without a hitch, except Corin almost sneezed and forgot about it when Eustace poked him. They held it in a small but elegant room, which thankfully excluded the majority of the Prince's terrific entourage.

Rabadash gifted the tetrarchs with gold and silver ornaments and carpets of Turkish style. Peter in return gave him gifts of dwarfin nature, no work so fine had ever been seen by the Calormenes.

That night they held a great ball.

The marble columns of the Great Hall glowed in the sparkle of a thousand lights. The court dresses of the ladies were vibrant like the feathers of birds of a strange plumage and many of the gentlemen were no less gaudily arrayed. The Calormens wore peculiar and exotic clothes; wide, baggy trousers, small heavily embroidered vests and scented turbans accented with curling feathers and bright gems.

The orchestra warmed up and began to play wild Narnian tunes, but that was where the trouble started.

For the most part, the Calormens had never been to a ball, let alone a Narnian one. The line dancing baffled them and it took ages before those Narnians with Calormen partners managed to make the dancing proceed at all smoothly.

Susan was expecting Peter to ask for a dance when she saw the Calormen Prince making his way towards her, around the whirling dancers. For a moment, she thought of trying to disappear around the other side of Peter, but shyness in a Queen, she had long thought, was a great weakness, so she put a brave face firmly on and turned to face Rabadash with a smile.

"Your majesty," he said, bowing with great ceremony. "I cannot help but think…your dancing appears most intriguing…" frantically, he sought back into his memory for the words Lord Eustace had used on Lucy only a few moments before, "Madam, may I have the next dance?"

Susan smiled with sudden sincerity, _why, he seems quite as afraid of me as I am of him. _Gracefully, she extended a hand, "I would be honored, your highness."

Peter watched them go, a frown between his eyes. He was disposed to like Rabadash and half would have preferred it if the Prince had been a little less charming, a little less amiable. Well, nothing to be done about it. He strode off, deep in thought.

~o*o~

"Oh I say!" Eva exclaimed as she narrowly missed being leveled by a large someone who walked deliberately behind her column.

"Oh sorry!" then he turned around to look at her, "Oh Eva!"

"What is 'oh Eva' supposed to mean?" Eva asked haughtily, dropping into a curtsey. "Your most excellent, graceful, serene, imperial majesty, let it be known that this is my column and you happen to be standing behind it uninvited."

"Sorry," the High King bowed deeply, "Lady Eva, I request the honor to stand behind your column."

"Request granted your majesty." Eva said, "Are you enjoying the ball?"

"Well…" Peter said, then laughed, "If I said I was, you'd ask me why I was standing behind a column. Are _you_ enjoying it?"

"Very much," Eva said.

"I'm glad someone is."

"Aren't you going to ask me why _I'm_ standing behind a column?"

"Madam, _why_ are you standing behind a column?"

"I like watching people," Eva said, smiling, "Calormens are peculiar creatures. I've discovered that they're completely in awe of centaurs, rather revolted by fauns, are frightened of the talking mice and even more terrified of Corin."

"Are they now?"

"He _is_ the Crown Prince of Archenland." Eva said, "Oh, time flies, doesn't it? I remember when he was just little."

"I remember when he was littler."

"Oh poof, you know what I mean."

"Do I?" Peter asked, his eyes were drawn to his sister on the other side of the ballroom. "Do I?" Susan and Rabadash were dancing, their hands clasped. Susan's head was thrown back with laughter and her long dark hair gleamed over her shoulders like a veil of silk. They seemed to fit each other; he was tall, dark and dashing and she, tall, dark and beautiful.

"They look very happy don't they?"

Peter looked around, surprised at the resentment he heard in her voice. "You don't like him?"

"Oh, I'm sure there's nothing _wrong_ with him." Eva said scathingly, "I have never met a man I thought deserved her…or Lucy – _Queen_ Lucy, that is."

"I haven't either," Peter said smiling down at her. "Look here, do you want – ?"

He cut off, catching sight of a young girl who seemed to be sidling up to them. She was a very pretty girl, with big, dark doe-like eyes and dressed in gold embroidered wine-red silk that set off her dark complexion very agreeably. He decided that she was probably about fourteen. Just a baby still.

"Tarkheena Lasaraleen," Eva said cordially, "How very nice to see you again, I hope you are enjoying yourself?"

"Very much milady," Tarkheena Lasaraleen sank into a curtsey so low Peter feared for her safely on the smooth marble floor. "Your majesty." She murmured.

"You are the wife of Tarkaan Abdullah?" Peter asked, "I met him, very agreeable fellow."

"Thank you, your majesty." Tarkheena Lasaraleen looked up at him coyly. Eva thought it a wonder that he didn't notice.

"So, how do you like Narnia?" Peter asked, as Eva didn't seem to be continuing the conversation.

"Oh, it's the loveliest place I've _ever_ been!" the Tarkheena said, suddenly animated. "The mountains are just simply…simply _stunning_. And I've never been in a place like Cair Paravel. It's all been _so_ delightful!"

"Well, I'm glad you think so," Peter said, smiling.

"What dance is this, your majesty?" Lasaraleen asked, looking out at the dancers as they changed hands down a line.

"The Narnian Reel," Peter said.

"It looks _simply_ delightful," Lasaraleen said, than sighed.

"It is rather, it's a great deal of fun." Peter said, then asked the inevitable, "Have you done any dancing yet?"

"Now you've put your foot in it," Eva muttered under her breath.

"Your Majesty," Lasaraleen said, pulling a perfect damsel-in-distress face, "No one will dance with poor little me. I'm most neglected."

Eva glanced up at Peter and saw that he was feeling terribly sorry for this poor little girl.

"That won't do," Peter bowed gallantly and held out his hand, "Will you give me the honor of this dance?"

Lasaraleen simpered and Eva rolled her eyes.

"Your Majesty, I would be terribly delighted!"

"Well then."

Eva watched Peter lead the Tarkheena away. She knew that he was seeing a little fourteen year old girl who deserved some fun, but Lasaraleen was seeing the High King, a tall young man who was devilishly handsome. Eva shook her head, it wasn't wise, she knew it.

"What exactly does 'terribly delighted' mean?"

Eva knew that voice well; she turned and sank into a curtsey. "Your majesty, you were _eavesdropping_."

"Oh, I'd call it spying," Edmund leaned against the column. "It's a wonder how long it takes people to realize I'm here."

"How long _have_ you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that Peter _was_ going to ask you for a dance," Edmund said smiling, "I don't think it was right for him to jilt you for another lady. Will you do me the honor?"

Eva grinned and took his hand, "I would be _terribly_ delighted."

Edmund laughed, Eva smiled and the next moment, they were whirling away, two old friends who both enjoyed dancing above anything else.

~o*o~

"What are we going to do about the summer festival with all of them here?" Lucy asked, waving her hand distastefully at a group of Calormen Tarkaan who were doing the heavy-looking-on part of the dancing. "We ought to leave tomorrow if we're going to get there."

"Nothing, I suppose," Eustace said calmly, "I doubt very much that any of you will let a gaggle of Tarkaans interrupt your summer festival. You could bring Prince Rabadash along with you, if he wants to go. He might enjoy it."

"I like him, you know," Lucy said, looking over her shoulder at where the Prince stood on the sidelines with Susan, laughing over his punch.

"I do too," Eustace said, then grinned, "He really was first rate when Eva made her little mess."

"Oh, that was so funny!" Lucy said, "I _so_ wish I'd been there."

"No you don't." Eustace said.

~o*o~

"What did he say when you and Peter asked him?" Lucy asked, watching the sparkle off the silver brush as she ran it through Susan's long dark hair. The ball had been over for only about half an hour and both queens had sore feet and heads that badly wanted to go to sleep.

"I think he was surprised," Susan said. "Though he did seem pleased, he's coming anyway. I hardly know how to treat royal guests, Peter says we will just treat them as if they belong, I suppose he's right...I'm so tired!"

"Me too," Lucy said softly, seeing Susan's reflection in the glass before her.

"You ought to go to bed, dear," Susan said.

"I quite agree, and it's my job to see that you land there."

Susan saw Eva in the glass, standing behind Lucy, half-smiling. Yawning Lucy handed the brush to another lady-in-waiting and obediently followed Eva through the door that connected her room to Susan's.

"You'll wake me up early tomorrow?" Lucy asked.

"As early as you like," Eva said.


	7. King of the Night

King of the Night

* * *

><p><em>Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour ... <em>

_Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender ... _

_Turn your face away from the garish light of day, _

_turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light - _

_and listen to the music of the night ..._

~ Charles Hart

* * *

><p>Aravis and Hwin progressed speedily at first, fearing they were followed. But as the days passed, no one appeared and Aravis, much to Hwin's happiness, thought it prudent to slow their pace.<p>

Aravis began to enjoy the journey, she was seeing places that she had never seen, only heard about, or had only seen once when she was very small. Now, she could see the sun rise and fall and watch the first stars spangle the heavens and make her feel suddenly as if she were not alone. She could watch the golden eagles wheel in the sky and hear the jackals and hyenas laugh in the night. She liked the freedom too. No one told her what to do, Hwin was a gentle soul, not one given to authority and Aravis suddenly realized that freedom comes with great responsibility. She was the one who rationed the food and the money and made sure that they woke in the morning and went to sleep at night. She knew Hwin enjoyed it too, though the filly seldom spoke, but her every fiber and essence exuded tremendous spirit and longing for her native home of Narnia.

Aravis' home, the peninsula of Calavar, was very far south and the whole tremendous land of Calormen lay before them without a guide or map, only the North Star, twinkling in the distance. Hwin had a natural sense of direction and as they traveled, Aravis learned to tell the time and the direction by the stars and the sun.

Farther to the south of them was the barbaric land of the dark people. Aravis herself had had some of them as slaves and she was always awed by their courage and stoicism. To the north was the new and equally barbaric land of Narnia, to which she was bound. Beyond it, she knew not, but her imagination soared with the idea of a land where creatures could talk and the rulers were merely the servants of the people. Hwin told her all she could remember as they traveled and in return, Aravis told Hwin fantasies of Calormen that the horse had never heard. She was Inspired by Scheherazade, the girl who married the Tisroc, Shahryar, who had pledged to marry a new wife every night and behead her in the morning. He agreed not to kill her if she would tell him stories, so she told him a new story for a thousand and one nights and by the time she was done, the Tisroc loved her more than the air and the light and would not behead her. Aravis' mother had told her many of the thousand and one stories and she delighted Hwin with the fantastic tales of Sindibad the sailor and Ala ad-din, the beggar boy who became a king.

They traveled during the night and slept during the day, and the starry sky became a pallet for Aravis and both the girl and the horse painted airy castles among the constellations and could imagine the shooting stars as great tarkaans riding on the hunt, their hound dogs leaping behind them and their hawks on their wrists, ready to fly at the gazelle and the antelope.

They passed deep blue bays and rivers and villages, all going about their own businesses, never dreaming that the noble Tarkaan was a girl on a talking horse. One night, when the moon was high, they entered Azim Balda and posted the letter that Nithtash had written that sunny day so long ago. The postmaster seemed suspicious of Aravis, but he did not comment; her gold was good.

Again, they were speeding their way north. Hwin's hooves beat a rhythm that Aravis' heart matched as she thought of the freedom that lay ahead of them. Sometimes she wondered what they would do when they arrived…better not think about it, Hwin said, getting there was the goal.

Then one night, perhaps a week after they had started, when the moon hung overhead like a bowl of silver, shrouded and dimmed by clouds; they had started their nightly journey, having slept during the day. They had left the downs behind and were crossing a wide plain with a forest about half a mile away on their left. The sea, hidden by low sandhills, was about the same distance on their right. Aravis could just see the sparkle of silver and Hwin rose and fell in a lope. Suddenly, the mare pulled up, her head held high, her ears pricked forward, searching.

"Why have you stopped?" Aravis asked, somewhat irritably, as she had just woken and was tired.

"I hear the footfalls of another horse." Hwin said softly.

"Perhaps an antelope?" Aravis suggested, hearing the steady sound herself.

"Too heavy for that," Hwin said, "This horse is being ridden, for no horse would keep such a steady gait otherwise. It is a fine horse, a strong, young one, with much energy. There is breeding with that horse, a thoroughbred perhaps, a northern horse. They are much swifter then the southern horses. If it came to a race," Hwin switched her ears back, "I should lose."

"No you should not," Aravis said, nudging the mare lightly, "Let us continue."

"Nay, I fear it." Hwin said, turning her head and looking at Aravis worriedly.

"They will think I am a Tarkaan." At those words Aravis felt some of the fear go from the filly and Hwin stepped forward quietly at a walk.

"It would help if I could see them," Hwin said softly and broke back into a lope. It was very slow; slower than even a trot, and much quieter. Aravis tried to see the other horse, but she only saw the blackness of the woods beside them. Then she saw something darker, a shadow moving behind them silently.

"There is something following us," Aravis leaned low and whispered.

It was then that a hoarse noise, something between a bark and a cough, echoed behind them. The night had been silent until then and the discordance of the sound startled Aravis. It startled Hwin more; her ears flipped back against her skull and she burst forward into a gallop so quickly Aravis was almost left behind.

"What is it?" Aravis cried, grabbing a handful of mane and catching herself before she fell.

"A lion!" Hwin gasped.

"A lion? What!" Aravis had heard of lions, her brother, Horeb had killed one once and the skin used to hang on the wall of one of his rooms. She had wondered at the huge jaws and the long white fangs that glowed softly in the sun.

Suddenly the moon came out, full and blinding, like the light turned on in a dim room. Aravis was suddenly able to see everything; the dark, lithe shape of the lion moving low upon the ground behind them and the other horse and rider.

The other horse was a large, handsome animal of impressive stature; a mere colt, for his charcoal coat had only begun to dapple out, betraying his extreme youth. The rider was tallish and rather skinny. He sat the horse's gait very well, though he seemed to be keeping his hands to himself, while the reins, loosely tied to the pommel of the saddle, flapped in the wind.

At the sight of Aravis and Hwin, the other horse and rider veered away sharply, but a moment later, the roar of the lion echoed again. The other horse whinnied shrilly and moved towards them again, his long legs leaping wildly over the ground. Aravis glanced at the dappled gray and the boy; they were galloping not a stone's throw away.

The lion was closer now, at their very heels, his roars longer and more persistent, driving the horses even closer together, until at one point, their knees brushed and the boy atop the other horse grunted in pain as Aravis' greaves bit into his leg. The horses were wild, running hard. Froth flew from their mouths and blinded their riders and Aravis could feel Hwin's neck, slick with sweat under her fingers.

Suddenly they topped a small rocky hill and a great flat sheet, shining silver in the moonlight, spread out before them.

"The water! The water!" Hwin gasped as she barreled towards it, "Lions are afraid of water!"

They plunged into it, foamy water leapt into the air around them and bright droplets sparkled in the moonlight. Hwin leapt forward, breathing frantically, then she slipped and water closed over Aravis' head. She could only grope for the saddle and hope Hwin could swim across to the other side as her head broke the surface again.

"You're armor is so heavy!" Hwin gasped. Aravis only cried out, because one of the filly's wildly flailing hooves caught her in the leg. Aravis caught a death lock about the filly's neck and closed her eyes bighting back the pain in her leg.

Suddenly Hwin plunged upwards, then Aravis heard the sound of rushing water, then crunching pebbles under hoof.

"Oh I'm so tired!" Hwin gasped, her head hanging low. Aravis, still holding Hwin's neck, found herself sliding off. Then she stood for a moment, grasping the saddle and testing her leg painfully on the ground.

"Oh my sister," Aravis said, "It was my armor, I am sorry."

Aravis heard a low snort on her left and she looked up to see the other horse and rider standing not five feet away.

"I heard you ma'am," a low, strong voice came out of the darkness, "there's no use denying it, I _heard _you."

"And if you did?" Aravis asked, haughtily, "What is it to you?"

"I was not addressing you," the voice replied, just as haughtily, "I was addressing your horse."

"I say, Bree," Another voice, a boy's, came out of the darkness, "It's not a Tarkaan at all, it's only a girl."

"And what if I am only a girl…" and suddenly the whole truth dawned on Aravis and she stared at the other horse.

"Master Horse…you talk?" she gasped.

"Certainly," the Horse said, "You can't imagine that the only horse in the whole world that talks is yonder filly."

"Aravis," Hwin said softly, "Do you mind overmuch removing my saddle?"

"No," Aravis said, then paused, "what about the lion?"

"If the lion was going to eat us, then he would have done it by now," the other Horse said in a rather lordly tone, "look, on the other bank, there he is."

Aravis looked, and there indeed she saw the lion, lying on the opposite bank, looked at them calmly, his great forepaws crossed ever so impishly and his great eyes glowing in the moonlight. His heavy mane swept around him like the desert wind and to Aravis, he seemed infinitely noble, though only a few minutes before, he had been trying to catch them.

"My saddle?" Hwin quavered and Aravis jumped to remove it.

Hwin breathed deeply, "That's much better."

"Perhaps you should walk a bit and cool down," Aravis suggested, sliding Hwin's bridle off her ears and watching the bit sparkle in the moonlight.

"No…no," Hwin said.

"Well then, dear lady," the other horse said, "now that you are feeling more relaxed, tell me your story, is it the same as mine? Captured in early youth – years of slavery among the Calormenes and now, escape at last?"

"Exactly that," Hwin said, "Aravis and I are bound for Narnia."

"And so of course are we!" the horse whinnied his enthusiasm, "A peasant boy in rags, riding, or at least trying to ride…" he whickered a laugh, "…A war horse in dead of night, could mean nothing but escape!"

"Tell him to mind his own business," Aravis said softly.

"Hush now, this is my escape as much as yours." Hwin said. "Master Warhorse…?"

"Bree," the other said.

"Bree," Hwin went on, "Perhaps we should relate our stories, then perhaps we should travel together, for we have no idea of the way and I'm sure a great warhorse like you would know."

"Eh?" Bree said, "Rather good idea, Shasta? Tell the story?"

"Me?" the boy squeaked from atop the horse.

"Yes you," Bree said, "why don't you take off my saddle while you are about it?"

"Very well," the boy said, sliding from the horse to the ground.

"I'm Shasta," he said, loosening the cinches expertly, Aravis watching him critically, "I have lived all my life with Arsheesh, a fisherman I called father," He slung the heavy saddle to the ground, "A couple weeks ago, a Tarkaan rode past our hovel and demanded hospitality for the night. We gave it to him, and as usual, I was sent outside to sleep with the donkey and I found that Bree could talk, so we made plans and escaped that night."

"Most remarkable tale," Hwin said. Aravis could tell she was beginning to fall asleep.

In turn Aravis told her own story, in the grand Calormen style. She had learned when she was very young the courtly manner of speech and her weeks of storytelling to Hwin had sharpened her skills. This was her masterpiece.

"Very finely told," Bree said generously, when she was done, "Now that we know about each other, _will_ you travel with us?"

"I don't really see the point," Aravis said, suddenly haughty. She couldn't help glancing at the rags that the boy, Shasta was wearing. She, Aravis Tarkheena, traveling with a rustic country bumpkin; the idea was too hideous for words. So far, her journey had been noble and high minded; it had seemed almost fairytaleish in its beauty. She would be like a princess from a distant land arriving in a foreign court, lauded for her beauty and perhaps even asked for her hand by a lord…but with this peasant along? This brat who looked like he hadn't had a decent bath since he was born? A fisherman's son? Well, he certainly smelled the part.

"Aravis," Hwin said sternly.

"Let's clear out, Bree, can't you see they don't want us?" Aravis looked up sharply and met Shasta's gray eyes. She suddenly realized with surprise that he actually looked intelligent.

"Nonsense," Bree scoffed, "Of course they want us! Why wouldn't they? They wouldn't pass up a chance like this."

"No we wouldn't," Hwin said with conviction, "We will travel with you and gladly, sir."

"Of all the ridiculous-" Aravis hissed. Hwin laid back her ears and shook her head and, with two votes for and two against, it was decided that they would travel together.

"What are your plans, then?" Hwin asked as Aravis sat in sulky silence, her back against Hwin's saddle. Shasta on the other hand, was making himself more useful gathering firewood and heaping it over a wad of dry grass.

"We will be out of Calavar in a few miles, the green fields will be no more very soon and we'll be going through something close to dessert." Bree said, "Our plan was to join a caravan going to Tashbaan. It is much safer that way. If you do go with us," he looked disdainfully at Aravis, "You'll have to dispense with that armor. I don't care what you'll do with it, just leave it."

"What am I to wear, then?"Aravis exclaimed.

Shasta took a flint and steel out of Bree's saddlebags. He struck it and a single spark leapt radiant into the night sky and fell like a star unto the little wad of grass. Aravis watched with what gentleness Shasta breathed life into the smoldering grass and coaxed the tiny flame that was struggling to live. Presently, it was eating up all the wood he could give it and blazing like an old fire.

"Well, there is a town close to here, I'll be sending my human in to see if there's a caravan to join. I'm sure he can find something for you to wear."

* * *

><p>Reviews? If you don't like it, please tell me why, if you do, again, please tell me why. I'd very much like to know. I have pretty thick skin.<p>

~Psyche


	8. Technology

Technology

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><p><em>Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness. <em>

~ Mark Twain

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><p>The next morning, Eva woke Lucy early and helped her dress. Then she went down to the garden with a very small tome and fell asleep under a tree. It wasn't exactly what she meant to do; she <em>had <em>meant to read her favorite sonnet. But when a sort of person like her, who really doesn't like getting up early, gets up early and goes outside to sit under a tree on some soft grass, well…

"Good morning!"

Eva started and almost dropped her book.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know you were reading."

Eva looked up to see the High King.

"It's quite all right," Eva said, scrambling to her feet, "I wasn't reading at all."

"Well that's all right then," Peter said smiling, "Good morning anyway."

"Good morning, sire," Eva said, dropping into a lopsided curtsey.

With a roguish looked, Peter bowed and Eva grinned.

"What were you reading?" Peter asked.

Eva held up the book.

"_Shakespeare's Sonnets_?" Peter exclaimed, "Where on earth did you get that?"

"From the library," Eva said. "It says inside that it was compiled from a book of sonnets that King Frank, the first king of Narnia, brought in from the other world. There are others too."

"Really," Peter said, "Can I see it?"

Eva handed it over, her thumb still in the place she had been reading. Peter opened it up.

"Sonnet 116?" he said, laughingly, then closed his eyes and rattled, "Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove…um..."

Eva laughed, "O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose Worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come…"

"Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks," Peter continued, "But bears it out even to the edge of doom: If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

"How did you know it?" Eva asked eagerly.

"I had to learn it in school. I never really realized before how beautiful it is. Shakespeare was probably one of the most gifted writers of all time…at least in our world," Peter said as they began to walk slowly down the garden path, "I came from a different world, you know."

"_I_ know," Eva was silent for a moment, "What's it like there?"

"Different," Peter said thoughtfully.

Eva laughed, "That's _very_ descriptive."

"It is, isn't it?" Peter said.

"But what is it _like_?" Eva asked, "I've always wondered."

"Well, for one thing it's been around a lot longer than this world, so it's more technologically advanced," Peter said. "They were on the verge of a huge global war when we left. Sometimes I wake up at night wondering how it turned out and whether my parents survived or whether there's still an England. I almost think it's best not to think about it."

"What's an England?" Eva asked.

"That was my country before we left," Peter said, "It's a little like Narnia, it looks like Narnia and it has a king, George the VI," Peter paused, "This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars...This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England."

"Where's that from?" Eva asked.

"More Shakespeare," Peter said, "He wrote more than just sonnets, he wrote plays too, that's what he's famous for."

"Really," Eva said, "What…I mean, well…what is the technology like? I've always wondered. The history books say you people arrived in the strangest clothes."

Peter laughed, "I say, are we in the history books already?"

"You are." Eva said, "And your clothes are on display in the library behind glass panes."

Peter stopped and stood stalk still, "Really? It's been ages since I've been down there!"

Eva laughed, "_What is_ the technology like?"

"You have a one track mind, don't you?" Peter asked, grinning down at her, "Where did you learn that word, technology, anyway?"

"King Edmund taught me," Eva said almost haughtily.

"Well," Peter said, laughing, "Considering our world is a couple thousand years ahead of this, things are very different. I almost think you'd be happier not knowing what the technology is like."

"No I would, honesty!" Eva exclaimed, skipping once, then remembering that she was supposed to be a lady.

"Well," Peter said, smiling, "man has learned to fly, clothes are mass produced by big machines, people ride around in carriages that don't need to be pulled by horses and there are ships that don't need sails and are so big you would hardly know you were at sea at all."

Eva spun around to look at him, eyes glowing, "You _do_ come from an interesting place! Did you ever-"

"Look out!" Peter exclaimed, "Eva!"

* * *

><p>Aravis found herself woken rather roughly the next morning by Bree.<p>

"Get up, lazy bones; you can't sit around all day." He looked down his nose at her, "once we're in the caravan you humans will have to work for our passage."

"Go away; it does not please me to wake up yet." Aravis rolled over on the hard ground and suddenly wished for her down bed at home.

"It doesn't please me that you are still laying about," Bree said. "Shasta was up hours ago. He's gone to that town to get _you_ into a caravan and to get _you _something fit to wear."

"Go away!"

She heard a hoof stamp loudly and suddenly Bree dove, buried his great yellow teeth in the back of her tunic, shook her a bit and then dropped her into something cold and wet. Aravis came up spluttering and realized she was in the inlet of the sea that they had crossed the night before. She stood up and stalked back up the bank with as much dignity that she could muster.

She dried very quickly in the sun and ate some food from Hwin's saddlebags. Hwin herself said good morning and asked how she was. Aravis said she was well enough and Hwin laughed and continued grazing.

It was quite soon after that that Shasta appeared. Everyone crowded around him.

"I found a caravan," he said, "They've agreed to have us if in return we take care of the camels."

"That should be all right," Bree said, "Have you any experience with camels?"

"Some," Shasta said. "I found your clothes," he turned to Aravis and shoved a bundle at her.

She took them behind a bush and inspected them carefully. Short trousers, sandals, a loose tunic and a turban. They would do, though they were none too clean. With disgust, she put them on…grimy, smelly, ugly and course. Why, she would look like nothing more than a beggar in them, she would be lowered to the same class as Shasta. When she arrived in Narnia, no one would know her for a Tarkheena, she would be a beggar, a wench in threadbare clothes. For a moment, she thought of giving the whole thing up, then she remembered Ahoshta's face and was ashamed of her cowardice. Of course she would go on.

She steeled herself and walked around the bush, expecting shouts of laughter, but there were none. Everyone crowded 'round and watched transfixed while she drew the ivory handled knife her brother had given her and began to hack at her hair. Then, rather shamefacedly, she turned to Shasta and asked him to put the turban on her head, for she could make neither head nor tail of it. Wordlessly he whipped it on, tucking the ends in tightly.

"You'll certainly do," Bree said, "It's a good thing you're rather skinny."

Aravis turned pink, then looked prim.

Then they turned to the horses.

"We can be fine horses if we like," Bree said rather haughtily, "In this land a poor man may own a fine horse, his wealth is his horse. Though, I can't say much for all the little silver baubles and trinkets hanging off our saddles and bridles."

Shasta, much to Aravis' horror, proceeded to pull all the silver work he could off the saddles. They did keep it, as it might come in handy.

Their journey had truly begun.

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><p>Reviews?<p> 


	9. A Trick to Falling

A Trick to Falling

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><p><em>When you're young and you fall off a horse, you may break something. When you're my age, you splatter.<em>

~ Roy Rogers

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><p>One of the reasons why Corin had been sent to Narnia in the first place, was not to have fun, but to learn. From the lochs of Ettinsmoor to the valleys of Archenland, it was well known that there were no finer swordsmen than High King Peter and King Edmund. They had learned first from Martin, the general of the Narnian armies, but since then, they had grown in skill until even Martin wondered if he could beat them in a fair fight.<p>

Since Corin turned five, he had had a sword in his hand and he did not remember a time when he did not know how to ride. King Lune had been a formidable swordsman in his day, but he had grown stout over the years and he was more than happy to let Peter and Edmund teach Corin all they knew of the martial arts.

Corin loved coming to Cair Paravel. Anvard was well enough and he loved his father more than anyone, but Cair Paravel was huge; a vast playground for a young boy. There were thousands of forgotten corridors and empty hallways and rooms deep underground where ancient things were stored. Corin was given the run of the castle, everywhere from the High King's study to the treasure chambers as they glittered with a wealth of interesting things.

One of Corin's favorite places was the armory, the stone building behind the stables. He loved to walk down the hallways, looking up at the walls lined with flashing weapons. Bows, sword breakers, claymores, bucklers, shields, maces, axes, halberds, dirks, swords, broadswords, basket hilts, spears, knives, sabers, stilettos, lances, daggers; he had learned how to use many of them.

One day, after jousting practice when he was taking off his leather gauntlets and thinking of going over to the hawking mews, he saw Rabadash coming slowly down the hallway of the armory, pausing often to stare open-mouthed at weapons he had never conceived existed.

"Hullo!" Corin said, struggling to get out of his leather breastplate.

"Good morning," Rabadash said, smiling, "Let me help you, sir."

Deftly, Rabadash unbuckled Corin's leather armor and Corin mopped his face in relief; it was a hot day.

"I was told by King Edmund that I would find the High King here," Rabadash explained as Corin hung up his armor.

"Oh yes?" Corin said, "He should be around the corner somewhere. He knocked me off my horse twice and I knocked him off once, but that was because he was demonstrating how to fall off. I never knew there was a trick to falling off."

"A trick to falling off?" Rabadash said laughing, "There is a trick to everything. Did not anyone teach you that when you fall off a horse you should hit the ground running?"

"Apparently _somebody_ forgot," Peter said appearing around the corner. "I just found out today that this boy has never fallen off a horse except at jousting practice."

"Never fallen off?" Rabadash exclaimed, "Incredible!"

"I agree," Peter said smiling, "I fell off the first time I ever got on."

"Well, at least I learned the trick to staying on," Corin said, grinning.

"Now you're going to learn the trick to falling off," Peter said, "Come on."

"Aw," Corin said, "Do I have to?"

"Yep."

Rabadash, eyes smiling, followed them out of the armory to lean against the wall and watch while Peter mounted his horse, Mystic, and turned him at a canter around the arena. Presently, he kicked his feet out of the stirrups and quit the saddle, landing running next to his horse, explaining the whole time how it was done.

Then it was Corin's turn and with a sly smile, he urged his horse to a gallop.

"Corin!" Peter called, "not so fast your first time! Try a trot to begin with!"

Corin ignored him, his horse was at a dead run when Corin swung off. He fell face down on the ground, plowing a furrow in the sand as he was enveloped in a cloud of golden dust. When Peter ran over to pick him up, he found him grinning as he struggled to get his breath back.

"You're crazy," Peter muttered. "Next time, trot, or I'll take your horse away."

"Its father's horse," Corin pointed out, when he could speak. Peter ignored him, setting him on his feet.

Corin tried it again, this time swinging his feet in rhythm with his horse's jog. He swung off, facing forward and pushing himself away from the horse at the same time.

"Good," Peter said, "Very good."

"When did you first fall off?" Corin asked with interest as he took a rest next to Rabadash. He knew that he would be in pretty bad pain tomorrow.

"Oh…I do not remember," Rabadash said thoughtfully, "I learned to ride when I was very small. We were not allowed to ride with saddles until we were much older, as my father believed that if we could ride without saddles, we could ride anything."

"King Peter makes me ride without a girth sometimes," Corin asked. "When did you get to ride a saddle first time?"

"My twelfth summer. After that, we were not allowed to ride with bridles."

"Wowee," Corin exclaimed, "You did _everything_ without a bridle? I wouldn't dare."

"I doubt that," Peter said grinning.

"Well, I doubt it too," Corin agreed.

"Will you show us how you ride, your highness?"

They all started at this new voice.

"Great jumping horny toads!" Corin exclaimed, "King Edmund! You always appear out of nowhere!"

"It wasn't my fault you weren't looking." Edmund said with a smile, "Prince Rabadash, will you show us your horsemanship? I was talking to one of your men and he says you are very good. Consider it a lesson for Corin."

Rabadash looked dubious. "If I could have my stallion, Ashquar…"

"Of course."

Peter directed one of the grooms to bring out Rabadash's stallion. While they waited, Rabadash squinted his eyes against the sun and looked up at the burnished brass weathervane at the top of the stables, glinting sun.

"It looks like a locust," he said at last, puzzled.

"It's a grasshopper," Edmund said, "I have no idea why it's up there."

At last, Prince Rabadash's horse was brought. It was a fine animal, blood bay with a white off forefoot. His head was up and his mane streamed like black fire from his crested neck.

Rabadash vaulted astride and they watched him in fascination as he put the stallion through his paces, from walk, to trot, to gallop and down to a walk again, without using his voice, or even his hands.

"He's good," Peter said quietly, "See how he uses his seat for all the commands?"

Corin didn't see, but that was all right. The stallion arched his neck as if he were going on the bit and went through a series of lead changes, looking almost as if he were skipping. At the trot, he leg yielded sideways, reared, and finally bowed.

They all clapped as Rabadash dismounted and led the stallion over to them, leading him by the forelock.

"If you set up a target, I could show you a fine way of using a bow on horseback," Rabadash suggested, hoping that he wasn't sounding too forward. It was his chance to show off his stallion, his brother.

Edmund grinned and a bow and target were fetched from the armory.

Rabadash was astride again, guiding the stallion on a serpentine around the arena at a dead gallop. Quite suddenly, he slid sideways on the stallion, hanging off the near side as he fitted an arrow to the string and let fly. The arrow thudded into the target and Corin looked back at Rabadash and realized that he could barely see him. Rabadash was using Ashquar's body as a shield against invisible enemies and Corin stared open mouthed at him, wondering how he could possibly hang off the stallion's side without using his hands.

Rabadash sat upright on his horse's smooth back again as he cantered past them. Corin could see the concentration on his face and knew that something was coming. None of them expected it when it came.

Sitting back, as if he were drawing on invisible reins, Rabadash slowed his stallion in mid gallop. The horse stopped abruptly, his hind legs furrowing the ground, but Rabadash did not stop. Corin stared wide-eyed as Rabadash flew over his horse's ears, did a flip in midair and landed standing next to his horse's head.

"Bravo," Peter said quietly.

"How do you manage that bit hanging off without holding on?" Corin asked hurrying forward.

Rabadash smiled with genuine happiness, "Look," with gentle hands, he showed where a loop had been braided into the heavy black mane of his horse. "I slip my arm through it and I am as secure as if I were I the saddle."

"I've got to try that," Corin said.

"He is incredibly sensitive to your commands," Peter commented. "Did you train him yourself?"

"I did, from a colt," Rabadash said, feeling the silky hardness of Ashquar's coat under his hand. "I never use a bit on him."

"He doesn't need one," Peter said, smiling. "It is very good to know your horse that well."

"He is like a brother," Rabadash said, "I have been everywhere with him. He has won many races. Once he traveled a hundred miles in twelve hours."

"Twelve hours, eh?" Peter said, grinning. "Pretty good."

"Well, in twelve hours, we're going to be over by lantern's waste," Edmund said, "I came down here to get you two ready to go."

"Ready to go where?" Peter asked, puzzled.

Edmund rolled his eyes, "Does the summer festival ring a bell?"

"Oh…that," Peter grinned. "Right, we're leaving today."

"We're leaving in four hours," Edmund said, glancing at his pocket watch, "I would suggest changing your clothes."

"Ah, good idea," Peter said.

~o*o~

It was rather late that morning that Lasaraleen decided to play one of her mad jokes. She dressed as an imperial slave girl and infiltrated the royal apartments.

At first, she thought she was lost. It was silent; all she could hear was the pitter-patter of her own slippered feet on the flagstones. The hallway was dark and she knew she was in the wrong one. A doorway loomed up ahead of her and she opened it to find herself on a deep carpet upon the floor and servants treading softly down the hall. It was quieter and lighter, with windows shedding sunshine on the smooth blue walls.

Lasaraleen tried the first door she came to. It opened into a big room, a sitting room with pale green walls above intricate wood paneling, a beautiful white ceiling with plaster moldings and gold leaf, and filmy red drapes glowing in the windows. Over the marble mantel was an elaborate shield with the crimson Narnian Lion on a green ground.

Eagerly, she stepped into the room, there were two doors at one end of it and she strode to the first and opened it.

She found herself in a bedroom. Her feet sank into a thick Calormene carpet over the wood floor. It was a very large airy room with flowers everywhere – on the mantel, molded into plaster on the walls and even on the ceiling. The bed, at the far end of the room, was a large, four posted bed with purple brocade drapes. Lasaraleen turned slowly and suddenly realized that she was not alone.

"Lasaraleen!" it was Queen Susan herself, "How lovely to see you, I love that dress, is it a new style? It becomes you better then what you have been wearing."

"Oh darling!" Lasaraleen smiled at her, "I'm afraid I'm a bit lost!" and she stepped back out of the room and closed the door.

Not that room then, she thought.

She tried the next door and found herself in another room. The walls were molded with climbing ivy, so cleverly sculpted and painted, it looked almost real. The bed was hung with dusty rose drapes, and books were piled high upon it. Already it wasn't looking promising.

"Lasaraleen!" a girlish voice called from the window and Lasaraleen saw Queen Lucy jump up, run to her and hug her.

"How did you know I wanted company?" she cried, "We're leaving today, it's the summer festival! Are you coming? Prince Rabadash is, Susan invited him and I thought of you immediately. I would so love your company! Especially since Eva can't come, she sprained her ankle this morning."

"Of course, darling!" Lasaraleen said, turned through the still opened door and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Lasaraleen was standing with her back against the door, breathing hard, when she noticed that there were two more doors on the other end of the room. With determined steps, she strode across the floor, stopped at the first door and opened it.

A tall blue-eyed man turned from the window to scrutinize her thoughtfully. The room was neat, no, neat didn't describe it. It was spotless. Slanted light from the tall windows fell across a perfect room.

"Tarkheena Lasaraleen?" King Edmund asked.

"Yes." Lasaraleen fluttered her eyelashes subconsciously.

"Well, Tarkheena," King Edmund said, "I would advise you to leave, as it is highly improper for the two of us to be here in _my_ room."

"Oh, but Ki-"

"'Oh' nothing, I shall be forced to call for the guards."

"But-"

"That, I believe, is the door; it's even opened, quite willing that you should walk out of it."

"Uh-"

She hardly knew what happened, but she found herself standing outside a closed door, she vaguely remembered that the drapes on the bed were blue. She wasn't really disappointed. The next door _had _to be _it. _

She opened the next door confidently.

She found herself in another large room. The walls were all dark wood panels, the trim gilt and the ceiling pale green and gilt. The bed had red brocade drapes that had been flung about so wildly it appeared that they had been through a hurricane. A horse bridle hung from one of the bedposts, the reins dragging on the floor. There were at least six dogs, some lying on the bed, others under it. Things were thrown everywhere – clothes, a helmet, several swords, a lance propped against the wall – it looked as if someone had been looking for something that had been in plain sight, but wasn't once he had found it.

A tall man, handsome and impressive was staring at her incredulously from where he was just buckling on his sword. It was the High King himself.

"Tarkheena La-Lasaraleen?" he said.

He bounded to the bed, pulled a short riding cloak off it and ran out the open door. Half a dozen baying hounds leapt after him. Distantly, she heard a door slam.

"But…" Lasaraleen stood staring after him in shock, _that wasn't the way it was supposed to end!_

Dazedly she walked out the door and closed it behind her.

"So you are finally going to come talk to me? Hm?" a quiet voice came from by the window, it was a nice voice, the type that could sing beautifully.

Lasaraleen looked around to see a lady with red gold hair, sitting in a chair, her embroidery on her lap and an impish smile on her face.

"Have you been there the whole time?" Lasaraleen gasped.

"Well I certainly couldn't have moved," said Eva calmly, gesturing to an impressively bandaged foot propped on a stool. "How are you doing, Lasaraleen?"

"Really, darling," Lasaraleen sat in a chair across from Eva, "I'm doing completely dreadfully!"

"How so?" Eva slipped her needle into her work and watched while a long strand of blue silk disappeared after it. "What were you trying to accomplish, just now?"

"It's just one of my mad jokes, I'm well known for them." Lasaraleen said calmly.

"Mad joke? Eh?" Eva laughed, "I'm afraid I dabble in that myself. But really," she grew serious, "barging into the kings' bedrooms is rude and most unseemly. What if they'd been dressing?"

"They weren't," Lasaraleen said with a sniff, "I think the High King is simply handsome! I love him madly all ready. And I'm sure he loves me. He danced with me at the ball and afterwards he spent a quarter of an hour telling me about land management."

Eva choked back a laugh, "Lass, you're married!"

"La, so?" Lasaraleen looked demure, "everyone must love someone other than their husband, it is romantic! Aren't you madly in love with the kings?"

"I don't believe the kings would be tickled to death if I was," Eva said. "They are merely my good friends, no more, no less. A little bird tells me that you don't know what love really is."

"I do!" Lasaraleen exclaimed, "And I'm in love at this moment."

"Lasaraleen, you are married!"

"What does that matter?"

"When you marry someone it's for life, Lasaraleen, not for fun. The person you marry must be your _only _love. What you feel for the kings is not love, you change a few letters and you have the word 'lust'. Lust is wanting something you can't have, and you can't have them, because you are married."

"But my husband isn't romantic!" Lasaraleen exclaimed. "Of course every married woman must have a secret love, when you get married someday you will-"

"Yes," Eva cut in, "Perhaps I will. The person I marry _will_ be my secret love."

"But you are impossible!" Lasaraleen exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, "Nothing you say will make me change my mind. The kings are-"

"Will you save it for later?" Eva asked, exasperated, "Why, the High King is sixteen years older then you! Why don't you pick on someone your own age?"

"What matter?" Lasaraleen asked coyly, "my lord is twenty years older then I. When I leave here the kings will be madly in-"

"I do hope the kings are made of better stuff then that. If they are madly-," Eva paused, "Drat! My thread is knotted."

* * *

><p>AN: All the horse tricks I have discribed are real. Controlling your horse with your seat is very important and its possible to slow and stop your horse without using your reins. The loop in Ashquar's mane was an old trick of the American Indians who rode without saddles and often without bridles. The final flip that Rabadash did was something that american author, Ralph Moody, did.


	10. A Lovely Day

A Lovely Day

* * *

><p><em>Joy in looking and comprehending is nature's most beautiful gift. <em>

~ Albert Einstein

* * *

><p>"So, what are you thinking of him?" Lucy lay flat on the grass on her stomach, exploring that wonderful network of an anthill. At that moment one of the ants seemed completely lost and each time Lucy picked him up and placed on his proper hill, he ran away again!<p>

"The ant?" Susan asked, from where she lay next to Lucy on her back, staring up into to the limitless depths of the sky.

"No, Rabadash."

"I don't know," Susan said. "Do you know what it's like to fall in love?" she asked, rolling over and looking earnestly at Lucy.

"I've completely fallen in love with the canter of Peter's horse," Lucy said, "You know, the buckskin, Ambyr's son, his name is Mystic. Peter started his training this spring."

"I'm not talking about that sort of love," Susan said, laughing and stretching a white hand towards the sun and watching the rays stream between her fingers like water.

"Well no," Lucy said, "Though I wish I had, then I could tell you."

"I'm honestly wondering," Susan said dreamily.

"You like him that much, then?" Lucy asked worriedly and half rolling over to look at her sister. "You only met him the other day!"

"He's a lovely person, he's so kind and considerate," Susan said, "And a perfect gentleman."

"So you think you might even marry him?" Lucy asked, growing very serious.

"Heavens' no!" Susan exclaimed, then paused, "honestly, I don't know. I don't think the boys are very happy about it. They've both tried taking me aside and talking to me seriously."

"They believe in strange gods down there, not Aslan at all," Lucy said quietly, "You wouldn't want a husband who believes differently then you. Your life would be torn apart."

Susan was silent, "You're right."

"I've even heard…" Lucy paused, then tried again, "I've even heard that the men, especially the higher up ones, have harems and the poor girls inside never see the light of day except through latticework."

"I've heard that, too," Susan said quietly, then rolled over to look Lucy in the eyes, "I would never, ever marry someone without deep consideration and the consent of my family…and Aslan."

They lay in silence for a while, each alone with her own thoughts.

"Susan," Lucy asked at last in a different voice.

"Yes?"

"What did happen to Eva? I never did hear the details."

"She fell down some steps in the garden." Susan said calmly.

"How on earth?"

"She was deep in conversation with Peter; at the top of some steps," Susan said even more calmly. "You know how excited she gets when she's talking about something interesting. Peter said she turned around and stepped backwards into space. He said it nearly gave him a heart attack."

"Really," Lucy said, uprooting a grass plant and watching the dirt shower from its hairlike roots, "That's almost funny, though I feel bad for Peter. What were they talking about?"

Susan laughed and watched an ant crawl across her slim hand. "I don't know, Peter didn't say."

"She'll miss the Summer Festival," Lucy said sadly.

"Nonsense," Susan said, "Eustace had some last minute things to clear up and he and she will be able to catch a ride on one of the wagons bringing the theater company from Cair Paravel."

"Your royal majesties!"

Lucy rolled over and looked up to see Edmund's head blocking the sunlight.

"Your royal majesties," he said again, "Let it be known that the royal steeds are ready and the royal Rabadash is waiting impatiently for your royal presences."

"Oh really?" Lucy said.

"Lucy!" Susan said, standing up, "You're hair is all full of dirt!"

"Lovely!" Lucy said joyfully, throwing her arms out and staring up through the limits of the sky. The world was so beautiful she could hardly take it all in without bursting. She looked up at Edmund, he looked rather maniacal, as one's eyes tend to look more bulgy when viewed from the bottom.

"This shan't do," Edmund said, leaning down to grasp Lucy's hands and pull her to her feet.

"Why not?" Lucy asked, giggling as she arose.

"Lucy," Susan said as severely as she could, "Are you twenty-two or two?"

"I'm two."

Vaulting over the flowerbeds, Lucy led the way around the outside of the Great Hall into the great courtyard where the horses stood, calm, held by grooms. Rabadash was mounted and flanked by two of his grimfaced Tarkaans, Abdullah and Horeb. He was talking to Peter, who was absently scratching the ear of Ambyr; his old horse just turned eighteen, but still a far better horse then most. Flavis, Lord Peridan, his kid brother, Baeth, and a centaur named Ahearn stood behind them, watching the Tarkaans with something close to wariness on their faces. Equus was smiling, his white beard and hair looking odd against his young face. The wolves, Shard and Loki were there along with Trevelyan, the red fox, General Winston, the loyal bulldog and Lord Darcy, the black panther.

Prince Corin was on his horse, a tall chestnut, watching everyone with great interest. Beside him was Lord Paladin on his charger with Lady Ellen and Lady Clyte on either side.

"Hello, _darling!" _

Lucy looked up sharply as she gathered the reins of her horse in her hand and prepared to mount. Lasaraleen was mounted on a boldly marked pinto, watching her gleefully. Lucy remembered with a jolt that she had invited her along.

Edmund propelled her into the saddle and she sat there for a moment, checking her horse as Peter helped Susan mount her black. Then Peter and Edmund were in the saddle and they were off.

Horse hooves echoing, they rode out of the gates of the castle and began the long descent down the road that lead into the city of Paravel. Corin, Susan and Lucy fell back with Lasaraleen among their ladies in waiting, watching the men ride ahead.

"This is the most glorious day ever!" Lucy exclaimed, feeling the exhilaration of the day, heightened by the smooth rhythm of her horse's gait. Paravel seemed to be bursting with life today, the ships that rode at anchor on the glittering harbor were bustling with sailors, the river otters were raising the ribs of a new merchant ship in the shipyards, the streets themselves were filled with people and animals moving this way and that in a wild, constantly moving painting.

"Darling majesty," Lasaraleen said, "That's what you said yesterday!"

"Isn't that lovely?" Lucy said joyfully. "It's true every day!"

"So, just what is a summer festival, your majesty?" Lasaraleen asked, "How late will we get back to the castle?"

"You didn't _know_?" Corin asked, disgusted. "We stay there for a week."

"A week?" Lasaraleen squeaked. Her horse stopped. "Is there a castle there?"

"Oh no," Lucy said, "It's better than that, we're staying with Mr. Tumnus, but I'm sure that a badger or mole would be glad to have you stay with them."

After they passed through the city, they made splendid progress. They followed the Great River part of the way, watching the merchant vessels and river rats, poling barges in the shallows. The little party stopped on a grassy glade to eat lunch and talk to a squirrel who was hiding a mushroom on a tree branch.

They arrived at Lantern Waste at about teatime. Mr. Tumnus' home looked like a rather large boulder half buried in a hill. They dismounted and waited while Lucy trotted down the little path to the boulder and knocked lightly on the door.

The door opened and a little faun, only about Lucy's height, looked out. Lucy hugged him at once and they stood there laughing and talking for a moment, then Lucy turned and beckoned to the rest of the group.

Rabadash met Mr. Tumnus with great joy, then they all sat about on the grass and took tea, as there were far too many of them to sit in the house.

Night fell quickly and it was then that Rabadash received one of the biggest jolts of his life. Quite suddenly, right next to him with, appeared a little man. He was very slender with a narrow face and pointed ears and beard, all dressed in green. But, the oddest thing about him was that he had little filmy wings and he glowed softly in the falling light. He seemed to come from very nearly nowhere and he bowed grandly, smiling at them all, a very impish smile it was.

"Puck!" Lucy exclaimed, standing up taking his hands, "So the pixies are coming this year?"

"They are, your majesty!" he exclaimed.

"Lovely!"

"My master and mistress bid you welcome to this part of the woods." Puck said, then promptly vanished.

"He always comes and goes like that," Lucy said sitting down again.

It was around then that their first visitors came. It was a whole group of red squirrels, who used their little bows to shoot acorns out of an oak tree. They offered acorns to the party, but all declined except Rabadash, who didn't know what acorns were like. At first he couldn't get into it, but then they opened it for him and after he tried it, he told them he would be honored to give it back to them and see them enjoy it.

Their next visitors were Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, who made Lucy promise to stay with them the next night. The centaurs came crashing through the woods afterwards and made everything seem very businesslike and hurried, until the Centaurides came after them and calmed them down. The stags and does came next. Rabadash charmed a little soft-eyed fawn close enough to talk to and found out that _he_ liked acorns. So Rabadash got one from the squirrels, who were very obliging and asked him if he wanted to really try one after all, he assured them he didn't and it was quite nice before, and he brought the acorn to the fawn.

There was a sort of prickly lizard named Monster, even though he was only six inches long. He was rather funny and Rabadash very nearly did himself an injury from laughing.

The badgers arrived next, they were quite bold and loyal and rather stumpy. They were very serious creatures and all talked politics with Edmund. The skunks were next and they very kindly stood downwind, with their feathery tails glowing in the moonlight. They told all sorts of jokes, which had the whole company laughing. There were hedgehogs, shaggy fell ponies, horses, bears (Corin tried to wrestle one and lost), the great buffalo- commonly known as wisents- more fauns, a whole cavalcade of red dwarfs (the black ones were on the way), several kinds of birds (including owls, when it got later), griffons and the great cats, lions, tigers, ocelots, leopards, and there were wolves and foxes and a whole pack of dogs, which made all talking but theirs impossible. Two phoenixes dropped in later and lighted up the gathering.

It must have been very late when Lasaraleen found herself stumbling off after a kindly she-badger and falling into a bed of heather.

* * *

><p>AN: Hopefully this will be the last boring chapter...:)

We had an ice storm and all the trees are folded up tight like frosty umbrellas. Just thought you wanted to know that. ;)

~Psyche


	11. This Mortal Coil

This Mortal Coil

* * *

><p><em>...To die to sleep, <em>

_To sleep, perchance to Dream; Ay, there's the rub, _

_For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, _

_When we have shuffled off this mortal coil..._

~ William Shakespeare

* * *

><p>"What will we do today?" Lucy asked at breakfast the next morning. "The festival doesn't start until tonight."<p>

"What do you want to do?" Peter asked, pouring himself another cup of tea.

"It's such a beautiful day today; I want to go to cauldron pool," Lucy said, "Its heavenly there."

~o*o~

It truly was a beautiful day and they rode far. They took an oft forgotten trail, leading east, which ended in a cool green bowl, in the center of which, a waterfall cascaded down into a pool as clear as glass.

"Cauldron Pool!" Lucy said softly.

Here they dismounted and Rabadash earnestly asked whether the ladies were too fatigued. Lucy was so shocked she couldn't answer, but Susan put his mind at rest by assuring him that they weren't.

Lasaraleen insisted that she was terribly fatigued, but no one paid her outburst any mind.

They sat beside the pool, feeling the silver mist in the air, while the ladies-in-waiting laid out the picnic. Lucy rose and went to sit by herself and take it in. Corin skipped stones. Horeb kept a keen eye on Rabadash while Abdullah penned a few lines of poetry to the west wind. Lasaraleen contented herself by looking at the kings and Susan found herself very much entertained by Rabadash.

"I find Narnia a most beautiful and refreshing place," Rabadash said watching a little finch drop out of the trees and grab a mouthful of something off the surface of cauldron pool.

"I'm glad you think so," Susan said, "Perhaps it is only patriotism that makes me say I find it the _most_ beautiful place."

"Ah," Rabadash said, "But you have not seen Calormen! The valley of many perfumes! The great palaces, Tashbaan herself! Someday you will go there, no?"

"Perhaps," Susan said, "I would greatly love to. Tell me of Calormen!"

And with boyish energy he told of the great desert, the city of Tashbaan, the houses to the south. The sea. He told of his boyhood journeys to the south and of the stable of horses he had in Tashbaan.

It was then that they heard a soft haunting shriek, as if a quick intake of breath, and Susan started to her feet when she saw Lucy's face, transfixed.

Edmund and Peter were on their feet in a moment.

"Lucy!" Peter was the first to reach her, Edmund a moment behind. Lucy stared at them, her blue eyes wide in her pale face. "Lucy!"

Something green seemed to be trickling down her arm and onto the grass. They saw two jewel-like eyes and a yard of shining scales as a snake slipped away as silent as a whisper. With a quick motion, Peter half drew his sword, but where the snake had been there was only mist creeping across the convoluted surface of Cauldron Pool.

"Aslan's Mane," Edmund breathed, then grabbed Lucy's hand and saw that it had been neatly pierced by a snake's fangs.

"Quick! Quick!" Susan tore a strip from her dress, a new one of lavender silk, and tied it as tightly as she could about Lucy's arm. She drew her little dagger from her skirt and setting her face, drew it twice across the snake bite. They watched as she sucked away the blood and spat it away.

"Edmund," Susan said very quietly, "Your horse is the fastest. Pray take her to the castle; she must have my cordial at once."

Edmund nodded, then caught Lucy up and carried her swiftly to where his horse stood waiting, beginning to plunge in excitement as he saw his master's approach. Edmund was halted by Rabadash's hand on his arm.

"Take my horse, good sir!" the prince exclaimed, "His endurance and speed far surpasses yours!"

Edmund hesitated, then caught sight of Rabadash's little stallion where he stood in the shadows. He had heard much of these fiery horses, of their great endurance and speed. Rabadash had told him how this very stallion had traveled one hundred miles in only twelve hours. They had a good deal less than that to go, but it would have to be traveled very fast.

The stallion's head was up, his eye was bright almost challenging. In a moment Edmund was in the saddle, with Lucy, kicking the creature to a gallop.

The others followed, but Rabadash's horse proved true and outdistanced the others. Peter's horse of eighteen years was first to fail and one by one the others dropped behind.

~o*o~

The tree fell with precision and the beaver, dusting his paws, came from behind it to harness it to the horse.

"First tree today," the horse said pleasantly.

"Aye, it is at that," The beaver said, rubbing a line of dirt from the horse's back, "Kindly take this tree down to the river."

The horse threw his weight into the collar, then stopped.

"What is it?" the beaver asked.

"I don't know, sounds like hooves to me."

The pounding grew louder until a horse and rider appeared at the end of the clearing between them and the river, and galloped into the woods on the other side.

"He's in a big yank," the horse commented serenely, throwing his weight back into the collar.

* * *

><p>They rode into the town. It was small, dirty and windblown. The caravan was assembled just outside of it and Aravis and Shasta and the two horses joined it with no bother made. They hardly even seemed to be noticed.<p>

It was perhaps an hour before the caravan leader called out harshly and the camels rose to their feet and swung away with their peculiar gait, both legs on each side moving at once. The horses found their places somewhere in the middle of the column. And it went on like that, the horses moving at a jog, the camels pacing.

Camels were odd animals. They seemed slow, their heads held high with a distinctly self-satisfied look because of their thick dust brooms of eyelashes. Their lower lips hung down like an old horse, giving them a completely content expression, but they were not slow and Aravis learned very quickly that they would bite. Their heads would streak out like lightning, snakelike, mouths wide open.

Aravis had never been in such godforsaken land before; it was as if crossing that small stretch of water separating her father's kingdom from the next was like passing into another world. It was harsh land, covered by small dry bushes and little rocky hills. Sometimes they moved through canyons, teetering with tiny, wild mountain goats, sometimes over large dry grassed planes teaming with grazing antelope and lurking with lions. Waterholes were few and far between and most of the water had to be kept in leather skins, making the water taste warm and musty. Their main staple was dates and they fed the horses dates and camels' milk as the other horses were fed.

At night, they huddled around the campfires while the temperatures dropped low and the jackals laughed in the darkness. At these times, Shasta would surface with a little pipe made of driftwood and he would play soft haunting tunes on it. He whittled too, and Aravis would watch in wonder, as an amazingly lifelike statue would form in his chapped brown hands.

"Where did you learn to carve?" Aravis asked. "My brother carves; when I was small he used to make me little animals not unlike that one. In fact, he made this knife for me."

Suddenly eager to show him, Aravis handed Shasta her most precious possession; the ivory handled dagger that she had almost killed herself with. Shasta took it hesitantly and turned it slowly, watching the firelight play over the carvings. Shasta knew that it took rare skill to carve like that, to lay in relief each flower petal and delicate leaf.

"You're very fond of your brother, aren't you?" Shasta said quietly, handing the dagger back to her.

"Yes, very fond. He is the best of men and the best of brothers." Aravis said, then added, "Far better than _anyone_ I have ever met."

"I haven't got a brother," Shasta said, "I haven't got anything, actually."

"Where _are_ you from?" Aravis asked, abruptly. She had wanted to ask for an age, but had been too proud to do so. Now her curiosity had gotten the better of her, "You're fair, we're dark, you're not Calormene. You're not like us."

Shasta stared at the ground, turning over and over in his hands the little goat he had been carving. The tiny legs pranced so delicately and the little horns curved against his fingers.

"Do you remember how I said that when I met Bree, his Tarkaan stayed with my fisherman?"

"Yes."

"Well, I never told you that he tried to buy me and I found out that my fisherman really wasn't my father. I'd often thought he couldn't have been. Listening through a crack in the house I heard him tell the Tarkaan that when I was a baby I was in a boat that grounded on a beach that my fisherman happened to be on."

"You could be anyone then!" Aravis exclaimed. A merchant's son? The son of a knight? Maybe even the son of a lord…how exciting!

"Bree thinks I'm from the North at least." He looked up at her appraisingly, then drew a bit of something from his pocket and handed it to her.

Aravis took it. It was a ribbon that had once been red but now was stained with water and fraying at the edges. Yet she could tell as it slipped between her fingers that it was of the finest silk.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

"I've always had it," Shasta said, "I think now that it is part of my old life. I've always wondered what it was. Do you know, being a Tarkheena?"

"It's a silk ribbon," Aravis said.

"What is a ribbon?"

"It is used for decorating things," Aravis said, "for tying bows or taping hems."

"I wonder if my family was well to do then," Corin mused, "Perhaps my father was even a camel dealer, or even a merchant."

Aravis watched him. His face seemed to have opened up as he spoke. It had lost the old, pained look he always wore and seemed relaxed as the firelight played over it, casting strange dancing shadows. For one moment her heart went out to him, then she drew it back and put it away. He was a peasant boy.

"Well," Aravis said scathingly, "You're probably nobody much."

Shasta shut up for the rest of the night.

In such a manner, they learned to know each other, at least to a degree. Aravis remained haughty and stubborn and Shasta remained secretive and silent.


	12. Walking the Line

Walking the Line

* * *

><p><em>God pours life into death and death into life without a drop being spilled.<em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>Edmund drove the horse mercilessly, hardly daring to wonder if it would be too late. Lucy's arm was grotesquely swollen, black and blue, and her head lolled unconscious against his chest.<p>

The horse's strides ate up the miles with surety and as the spires of Cair Paravel loomed into view, he dared to hope. Foam flew from the horse's mouth and the froth on its shoulder was tinted pink. It was snorting at every step and the muscles in its shoulders were beginning to twitch. Edmund left the road to avoid riding through the city and thundered up a little used dirt path. The horse strained up the slope, out onto the colored pavement before Cair Paravel and finally hurtled through the gates of the castle. Edmund galloped through the second gate, then the third and did not bother to dismount, but sent the horse into the castle.

Servants darted out of his way, but the hallways were large, well used to the passage of centaurs and talking horses and even larger beasts.

~o*o~

Eva hadn't expected company, but she was pleasantly surprised when someone burst through the door of the sitting room. She looked up to see Edmund, his hair wild, carrying Lucy, her head thrown back in the most disconcerting manner.

"What happened?" Eva exclaimed, droping her embroidery into the mug of tea she had cooling next to her chair.

"Snake!" Edmund exclaimed and Eva didn't have time to ask whether he was talking about her before he went on, "She needs Susan's cordial at once! Do you know where it is? Quick girl!"

The truth dawned on Eva in a sickening realization and she was up on her feet in a moment, barley feeling the pain of her ankle. She darted into Susan's room and glanced around until she saw the little golden coffer on the bureau. She tore it open, grabbed the crystal bottle and let the coffer fall to the floor.

When she reached the sitting room, Lucy was laying on the floor, Edmund on his knees next to her. Eva dropped down on her other side and undid the stopper of the bottle. Her hands were shaking so much that several drops fell into Lucy's open mouth. Eva sat back, shoving the stopper firmly back in place, then, biting her lip, looked down at Lucy. They both sat, watching her, barely realizing that they were holding their breaths.

Then, very gradually, the swelling in Lucy's arm went down until it was perfectly normal. Only the two little holes in her hand remained, already beginning to scab over.

Then her eyes opened and she looked up at them.

"Oh Lucy!" Edmund pulled her up, his voice breaking, "You _scared_ me!"

"Do you feel perfectly all right now?" Eva asked, steeling her from Edmund and hugging her, "How did it happen?"

"I hardly know!" Lucy said, "I think I must have been asleep!"

Then the door burst open for the second time and Eustace came thundering in.

"What on earth is a dead horse doing in the hallway?" he exclaimed.

"Oh!" Lucy exclaimed, tears filling her eyes, "It's dead? How dreadful!"

"I'm deeply indebted to Rabadash," Edmund said.

~o*o~

Peter was the first to arrive. Ambyr, brave heart that he was, gathered enough energy to get there before the others.

Peter burst into the room.

"Where is she?" He exclaimed.

And Lucy jumped up to meet him. He did not let her go for a long while.

Susan and Corin were next to arrive and Susan cried her heart out when she saw Lucy, safe and well on her feet.

"Oh Lucy, Lucy! I thought you were dead!" Susan sobbed, running her hands through Lucy's golden hair. "Don't ever do that again!"

"Lucy…" Corin began, for once he was perfectly serious, his face pale and drawn.

"If it weren't for Rabadash and his little stallion…" Edmund couldn't finish his sentence.

"Is the horse really dead?" Lucy asked, looking over Susan's shoulder at him.

"Practically," Peter said, "If he lives, he's ruined."

Lucy, still supporting Susan, walked to the door and opened it, almost afraid of what she would see. The horse was standing on his feet again, his head hanging low. The reins trailed on the ground, damp from sweat and rivulets of damp trickled down his sides to drip onto the floor. The horse's mouth was open and every now and then a careful, strangling cough echoed in his throat.

"His wind is broken, poor lad," Peter said, gently stroking the stallion's damp, shuddering shoulder, "I fear how Rabadash will take the news. In Calormen, they consider their horses like brothers; sometimes they are dearer then family."

"I could never imagine a place where a horse is dearer then family," Susan held Lucy tighter. It was then that they heard hesitant footsteps in the hallway behind them. They turned to see Rabadash, but he was not looking at them.

"Oh, my poor horse," his voice was heavy with sadness as the stallion made a poor effort to touch him. Rabadash raised the stallion's head and kissed his forehead, smoothing the long, sweat darkened forelock out of his deep, pained eyes. "Oh my brother."

"But," he said with great certainty, turning to face Susan, still supporting his horse's head, "The life of my horse and the life of Queen Lucy do not compare. Gladly would I give all my horses to save the life of so fair a flower."

"Prince Rabadash," Susan said quietly, "I am deeply gratified by your care for my sister; I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"I thank you too," Lucy said, smiling sadly as she reached out to touch the horse.

"Queen Lucy," Rabadash said with great gravity, "It delights me above all things to see you well again."

"Your horse saved my life," Lucy said, "What's his name?"

"Ashquar," Rabadash said lovingly. The stallion's finely veined ears twitched toward him.

"Let's take him down to the stables," Lucy said, detangling herself from Susan, "He needs rest and warmth and salve to keep his joints from swelling."

Rabadash agreed and the others stood back, watching while Lucy and Rabadash went down the hallway and around the corner, Ashquar hobbling between them.

"Horses are the best of creatures," Edmund said quietly, "they give their all and go 'till they drop. No other beast will do that."

~o*o~

The summer festival surpassed itself. During the day, there was a great fair and many vendors came to sell their wares. Acrobats swung over musicians that played until they got blisters, while the magicians entertained with sleight of hand. There were archery contests, horse races, and sword fights.

A short walk through the woods brought the company to an ancient moldering stone theater where the acoustics were such that a whisper could be heard by the spectators seated farthest from the stage. Theater companies that had practiced all year put on plays and the stage turned into almost another world when the limelights were lit and the greatest actors from both Narnia and Archenland presented their plays.

During the night, it turned to magic. Not real magic I suppose, but the pixies came out of their hiding places and the dryads danced with the fauns and the streams ran with wine instead of water because old Silenus had come, wineglass filled, as he sat astride his fat donkey. They traveled through the woods to the abode of the tall, gracious fair folk, Elphame, and spent a day in a place so beautiful it was constantly taking their breath away (Thankfully no one hyperventilated). Later on, even though the Black Dwarfs grumbled about it, the Red Dwarfs brought the company treasure seeking into mines and caverns deep below the forest floor.

The real magic came when Susan sang, her beautiful voice reaching to the very heavens. It was said that her voice could make the stars weep. It certainly brought tears to the eyes of everyone else. Lucy, Edmund and Peter couldn't help noticing that Rabadash watched her spellbound, a look of great sadness on his face.

The very air of Narnia seemed to drip with magic. Edmund had always thought there was something special about the air of Narnia. Susan said it was healthful, Lucy declared it was beautiful, Peter thought it was strengthening and Rabadash secretly thought that it was good. He knew more than the rest of them did. In certain parts of Calormen he had felt that the air was actually more oppressive then other parts. Not that the air was any different, but that there was something darker, heavier about it. Coming into Narnia, he had felt uplifted and all oppression raised from his shoulders.

When the week of the summer festival drew to an end it was a quiet procession that returned to Cair Paravel.

"I feel like weeping," Rabadash said to Edmund as their horses stopped to drink at the river, "I have never seen anything so beautiful."

"You've come under the spell," Peter said, half smiling at him.

"Narnia is a jewel among the nations," Rabadash said with great conviction.

"I agree with you completely," Edmund said, pulling up his horse's head.

~o*o~

They returned to Cair Paravel the day after the end of the summer festival, Rabadash declared it one of the best times he'd ever had.

It was two days after they returned that Susan and Lucy were in their sitting room, Eva calmly watching from where she sat, her ankle was nearly the same, because she had walked on it the day Lucy was bitten.

"Peter's been moody ever since the snake incident," Lucy said.

"Don't you dare move, else I might stick you." Susan mumbled through the pins in her mouth. "Put your arms back up."

Lucy stood, though she hated it. Susan was fitting a new gown on her and was extremely fussy about it.

"I think we've all been rather moody. You don't know how terrible it was." Susan shuddered.

"Do you think we should hold a tournament?" Lucy asked, wincing as Susan pushed another pin in a seam.

"I didn't prick you, dear," Susan said comfortably, "I hardly know if we should. They don't seem to hold tourneys in Calormen; they would all far rather be on fifty mile marathon races on their horses."

"But Peter didn't like that idea, I don't blame him," Lucy said, "having Rabadash and all his pet Tarkaans riding marathon races across Narnia, and bothering who knows whom, doesn't seem the wisest idea."

"Lucy!" Susan exclaimed, "Rabadash is a perfectly nice person."

"Did I say he wasn't?" Lucy asked, "Eva, did I say he wasn't?"

Eva didn't have time to say anything, because Peter burst through the door.

"I'm leaving," he said.

"Why?" Susan exclaimed, and Lucy squeaked, because Susan pricked her.

"That serpent that bit Lucy was of no normal nature," Peter said. "Did you see how it turned to mist and vanished? Some evil work is afoot, and I shall ride out and see if I can put a stop to it."

"No," Lucy said with great certainty and getting pricked again as she moved, "Ow…I will not have you going out on my account."

"And anyway," Susan said calmly, "There is a ball tonight and you must be there."

"I'll be back before then," Peter said calmly, "I just want to take a look around."

"Peter," Susan said quietly and Peter turned back to look at her; "Don't hurt yourself. If you're not back within a reasonable amount of time I'll send someone for you."

"I'll be back."

"Take someone with you."

Peter grinned, "I'll be perfectly all right."


	13. The Snake

The Snake

* * *

><p><em>No object is so beautiful that, under certain conditions, it will not look ugly." <em>

~ Oscar Wilde

* * *

><p>Baeth was a younger brother, and a youngest sibling and being so, he found himself forgotten and spoiled in the same moment. The urge to prove himself had never been absent from him and the person he idolized above all others was the High King himself. His brother, Lord Peridan, was lowest in his esteem. Being only three years old when the famous four had come to Archenland, he barely remembered those times and the events afterwards; he felt himself born late, perpetually too young for everything, no matter how old he grew.<p>

So it was, that day he was sitting aside the fountain sketching, waiting for his brother to come from counsel and go hawking with him.

"Baeth!"

A voice as calm and deep as the summer sea reverberated behind him. He looked up to see the High King smiling down at him from his great height.

"Your majesty!" Baeth leaped to his feet and bowed stiffly. The king laughed again, then looked at him, taking him in, his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Lad, you've grown!" he exclaimed, with the odd expression of one who realizes that time passes far too quickly for comfort.

"Yes!" Baeth said, gratified to have been noticed, "I've grown four inches since this spring."

"Hm," the king said thoughtfully, "The only other person I've seen to grow so quickly in such a short amount of time is my brother, Edmund." Then he chuckled.

Baeth glowed, first to be noticed, then compared to king Edmund himself was beyond comprehension.

"Well," the king glanced at the cloudless sky, "It's a prestigious fine day for a ride, care to come along?"

Baeth stood rooted to the ground, watching the retreating form of the king, then jumped into action and ran after him.

The King, Peter, like his sister Lucy, wasn't one for unnecessary words. Edmund would have at least made small talk and Susan would have most definitely have made a conversation, but as it was, the walk to the stables was a quiet affair, jammed with driving energy. That was one thing Baeth admired about the king, he saddled his own horse. It was a good feeling to know that the king of your country actually didn't mind getting into the dirt and pain of good, honest horses.

They started at a smooth lope, for it was the least strenuous gait for the horses. Baeth wondered where they were going, but cantering after the High King was enough and he asked no questions.

They went far, through forest, over glade, and through forest again. They were in a forest on a narrow sun-dappled path when the king pulled up his horse to let it breathe.

"We're nearly there," he said, slapping the horse's smooth golden neck, "be on your guard. I see you have your sword. I'm looking for the serpent that nearly killed my sister a week ago."

Then the king swung his horse around and set it to a trot, horseshoes flashing in the sun.

In the distance, Baeth heard the roar of a waterfall and he knew at once that it must be Cauldron Pool. He remembered it from when he was there last, only a very little boy, at one of the great Narnian dances where Bacchus himself was.

The horses' hooves thudded in the dead leaves and the trees swept by, the branches catching at their tunics. It was surely a beautiful place, the sun glowing green through the leaves of the trees. In a moment they came out into the open and before them was the pool, great, bubbling and cool. They dismounted from their horses and left them to graze.

* * *

><p>"And I fear her majesty has beaten me once again!" Rabadash leaned back from the chessboard to look admiringly at Susan.<p>

"Barely," Susan said shyly, "You won the last three matches."

"Are you going to have some lemonade or not?" Lucy called from the other side of the garden. Edmund sat next to her, playing chess with Eustace and watching Rabadash with a critical eye. Rabadash caught his eye and grinned at him roguishly, he knew very well what Edmund was thinking and he thought the more of the king because of it.

"Shall we go and sample some of your sister's lemonade?" Rabadash stood up, bowed and offered his hand to Susan. She took it and rose and together they walked across the garden.

Eva was sitting in a chair, knitting furiously. Corin was sitting next to her, timing how fast she could pick up dropped stitches and rhythmically hitting a tree with stones from his slingshot. (He continued until the rather irritated dryad came out and told him to stop.)

They toasted, clashing their glasses together with a faint tinkle, then drank the lemonade.

"Pink," Edmund muttered, looking into the depths of his glass, then winked when Lucy looked up at him sharply.

Susan seated herself on the grass next to Lucy's chair and Rabadash sat near her, next to the fishpond, watching the koi dart to the surface to nose the ripples, then vanish again.

* * *

><p>Much to Baeth's astonishment, the King didn't go nosing through the bushes for a green serpent, but instead sat down on the bank of the pool, his sword across his knees. Baeth sat next to him, half wondering what would happen next.<p>

They sat for a long time, not speaking, for the roar of the waterfall made speech quite impossible.

Baeth sat, mesmerized by the never-ending surge of water gurgling at his feet. He glanced at the king. Peter was toying with something on a silver chain around his neck. It flashed green. Suddenly Peter scrambled to his feet. Baeth looked up and saw what had startled the king and leapt to his own feet.

~o*o~

It was a girl, Peter saw, tall and slim as a birch, with red gold hair hanging to her waist. She was wrapped in a thin garment, as green as poison. Slowly she raised her hand and, looking straight into his eyes, beckoned.

Something told Peter not to go to her, perhaps it was the slight sharpness in her impossibly beautiful face, but the boy beside him took a step forward. Peter put a hand on his shoulder and held him back.

"No lad," He said softly.

At the sound of his voice, the girl moved silently backwards and slowly vanished into a mist that blew away into the trees.

A faint choking sound from Baeth made Peter look down at him.

"She's gone!"

"Aye," Peter said, "We'll go as well. Come, I've seen all I've needed to see."

They mounted their horses and Peter looked toward Baeth.

"Lad?"

"Yes?"

"Not a word to anyone of this."

"Of course," Baeth said, "Sire…"

"Aye, lad?"

"She looked like the lady Eva…"

"She did at that," Peter said.

* * *

><p>AN: I hope that doesn't sound too corny...


	14. Salaam

Salaam

* * *

><p><em>Peace hath her victories<em>

_ No less renowned than war. _

~ John Milton

* * *

><p>It was that night, at the ball, that Edmund stood against the wall, watching everyone. Eustace was next to him, running everything, calmly, efficiently and silently. Edmund watched Susan and Lucy, at the other end of the room with Rabadash, all laughing.<p>

"What are they serving?" Edmund asked, glancing at Eustace.

"What's that?" Eustace asked, looking around.

"What's for dinner?"

"Scrod baked in butter."

"Oh, my favorite."

"And steak and kidney pie."

"My favorite."

"I don't think there's anything you don't like," Eustace said philosophically.

Edmund felt a gust of air and he turned to see Peter standing next to him, his clothes plain, his cloak still misted by the dust of riding. Beyond Peter, Baeth moved into the crowd.

"Did you find what you wanted to find?" Edmund asked.

"Aye," Peter answered, "I believe I did. How are the negotiations on the trade agreements going with Calormen?"

"Very well," Edmund said, "They seem to be progressing quite reasonably, except Calormen wants us to sign a world peace agreement and disarm."

"Blast," Peter said eloquently. "They're the first who would want us to disarm. I hope you said 'no'."

"Am I a complete idiot?" Edmund asked, "Of course I said 'no'. The moment we disarm, Calormen would come galloping over our border and take us over. They might do it anyway."

"Quite my sentiments," Peter said. "What do you think about Rabadash now that you've had a good squint at him?"

Edmund sighed, "I honestly like the fellow. Period. I just wish he wasn't so charming…and witty," he added when, across the room, Rabadash smiled and Susan and Lucy laughed. "The disturbing thing is that I think Susan really likes him."

"Double blast," Peter said.

Edmund watched while Peter blazed his way through the crowd toward Susan and Lucy. Both attached themselves to him at the same moment, Edmund could hear their laughter. Rabadash stood away from the group, suddenly excluded, but still smiling faintly. Then he turned, looked around and caught sight of Edmund. His smiled grew and he made his way toward Edmund.

"How fares thee, noble sir?" Rabadash asked, bowing slightly.

"Very well, you?"

"Well." Rabadash shrugged, "I find rare good company with your sisters."

"I have very fine sisters."

"You do, you must be deeply grateful. You have two lovely sisters and a strong, fine brother." Rabadash leaned against the wall next to Edmund and continued almost dreamily, "You have much here, sir. More then you will ever know. I think perhaps I have been happier here than anywhere else I have ever been." He paused, staring into the crowd almost without seeing it, "I think perhaps I would find myself richer here as a peasant in the woods then a Tarkaan or a prince in Calormen. I would have freedom, wealth, a wealth knowing that no hands but my own made my place in life. I do not know…" he sighed, "Perhaps I have said too much."

"Nay friend," Edmund said softly. He looked over at the prince, to see his strong, dark features convoluted by deep feeling.

"Come now sir," Rabadash exclaimed, "Let us be merry!" He bowed again and gestured toward a table, "Refreshments, perhaps?"

~o*o~

It was the next morning that Susan gathered enough courage to suggest her idea.

"Do you realize, Susan, that your going to Calormen could be very dangerous?" Peter stood up and stared down at her as she sat in her chair. "I certainly can't go with you, because there's trouble brewing with Telmar. There's an embassy coming from there very soon and I don't know how that will go over."

"Rabadash has asked me to go." Susan said. "I feel that I must go, if I do marry him then I wish to know what he is truly like. Anyway, it is only common politeness to return his visit."

"You're going to marry him?" Lucy stared at her, her face transfixed by horror. The others were silent, staring at her.

"I must go to Calormen before I even decide." Susan said calmly. "I'll never know otherwise."

"If you are so set on going," Edmund said quietly, "I'll go with you."

Peter looked at Edmund, then Susan.

"Susan," Peter continued, more like a father then a brother, "Understand that I think Rabadash in one of the finest, noblest men I have ever met, but I have never met a man fine enough for my sister. Dearest, I will be loathed to part with you."

Susan stood, threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "You are the best of brothers," she whispered. "I have no intention of parting with _you_ lightly."

~o*o~

The day for Rabadash's departure was at hand. Edmund watched the Prince closely, his heart heavy. During the time he had spent with him, he thought they had formed a real friendship.

The Official Farewell took place in the Throne Room, but the royals all rode down to the wharves to see the prince off. Rabadash seemed weary and deeply sad as he swung off his horse and kissed Susan's hand. His dark, handsome features were drawn with such feeling that for one moment, Edmund wished he was not the Crown Prince of Calormen.

"It certainly has been a pleasure meeting you," Susan said quietly.

"And I you," Rabadash said, both hands holding her small white one, "then I shall see you, fair damsel, in Calormen, not more than a month from now?"

Susan smiled; a gentle, beautiful smile that would have melted even the coldest heart. "Not more than a month from now."

He kissed her hand one last time, then turned to Lucy to bid her farewell and kiss her hand. "And my stallion, you will take good care of him?" he asked.

"The best," Lucy said, smiling, the dimples in her cheeks, "Again, thank you so much for giving him to me."

"The honor was all mine," Rabadash said. He turned to Peter, looking up at him, then took the hand Peter offered and shook it firmly as if he wished to never let it go.

"And King Edmund," Rabadash said, turning to Edmund and taking his hand, "I will miss our conversations sorely. You all have…such a beautiful land, you must be so proud. I do not think you quite realize what you have – this land of freedom cannot be underestimated. If you realized what you could lose, you would fight with the last breath in you and once you were down, you would keep fighting and never give up. You would die with this promise in your heart, this promise that though you have died for it, another will live to enjoy it."

He paused, his eyes dark, "do not give up this land lightly."

"We have no intention of doing so," Peter replied and Rabadash looked up at him, thinking as he always did when ever King Peter spoke, of a piece of rich brown velvet.

"Thank you," Rabadash said, then turned and stepped down into the jolly boat that waited for him, lying beside the wharf.

"Farewell!" he called, thrusting up his arm in one fierce gesture, then as the rowers dipped their blades, sat with his face to the sea and did not look back again.

* * *

><p>AN: Oh my, Rabadash, you seem to be getting some loyal fans desperately hoping you have a true heart lurking inside you. Don't disappoint them, Please? (what ever happens, there is a method to my madness, though I may not be crazy like a fox.)

Since you have been making the effort of reviewing I do like to make a point of replying to all your comments and questions as soon as possible, but I seem to have some sort of strange illness that flares up worse in winter and that, on top of a rather terrible memory, may make my replies a bit delayed...you caught all that, right?

But please _do_ review, I will try my utmost to get back with you.

~Psyche (and Rose)


	15. Interval

Interval

* * *

><p><em>I don't know whether war is an interlude during peace, or peace is an interlude during war.<em>

~ George Clemenceau

* * *

><p>Ambassadors from Telmar arrived two or three weeks after the departure of the Calormenes.<p>

Eustace took care of everything seamlessly, as usual and Edmund and Peter found themselves again debating trade agreements and an affair with the boarder. They left a week later, many things still unsolved.

~o*o~

"Pete?"

"Eh?"

"What are you doing?"

Peter started and looked up.

"You've been staring into that blade for the past five minutes," Edmund looked hurt, "And I've been trying talk to you."

Peter ran the whetstone one more time over the blade of the dagger he held in his hand and winced as he tried him thumb on the edge. Edmund rolled his eyes.

"I don't like being a king," Peter said finally.

"Has your brain only just come up with that interesting inspiration?" Edmund asked, running a greasy rag over the blade of his sword, then sheathed it, the blade whispering on the lamb's fleece that lined the scabbard.

"No, I've been contemplating it for a while."

"Maybe you need your head examined," Edmund said.

Peter laughed his deep booming laugh, "Not if you are in on it."

"Um, I'm not so bad, I've just finished reading a book about measuring bumps on the skull to see how smart someone is, the more bumps, the more brains...I guess Rhinoceroses are pretty smart," Edmund shrugged.

Practice had just ended; they'd fenced for hours, each trying to get into the other's defenses. Peter was more skilled, but Edmund was left handed. They fought with swords and long daggers, using the daggers as they would have used bucklers. At last Peter tripped Edmund and sent him sprawling. But Edmund was like cat and he was up in a moment, tackling Peter low, wrestling him down until they were laughing too hard to continue.

They had both reached their full growth long ago. Edmund was slightly shorter and slimmer of build than his brother, but when the two came down a hallway of Cair Paravel abreast, travelers coming the other way would have an idea that they were walking into a solid wall. When he was younger, Edmund's hair was as golden as Lucy's, but with the years it had darkened until it was nearly the same brown as Peter's. Only his blue eyes remained of his other self.

"You put a regular nick in that," Peter said, holding up the dagger, "You and your thick skull."

"You put a nick in mine," Edmund pointed out.

"So I did." Peter said, "Sorry."

"You and your thick skull," Edmund said in satisfaction.

"Ed?" Peter asked suddenly.

Edmund raised an eyebrow.

"I wish you and Su weren't going South," Peter said.

"Don't you think I wish that too?" Edmund asked, growing serious. "But she's got to know. This chap Rabadash…"

"I like him," Peter said simply, looking deep into the fire that glowed in the heart of the ruby set in Rhindon's hilt.

"We all do," Edmund replied.

"Despite Rabadash making his overtures to Susan, you know as well as I do that our relations with Calormen are terrible," Peter said, "We've had reports of Calormene ambassadors meeting with the Telmarines and the Giants in the North. When you do go South, Susan and her meetings with Rabadash will make a good front. Keep your eyes peeled, brother, watch them and put that excellent memory of yours to use. You probably won't be able to dabble in any diplomacy while you are down there, but do all you can."

"I certainly will," Edmund said and Peter knew by the look in his eyes that he meant it.

Edmund stood up, stretched like a cat and slipped across the room like a shadow to lean his sword against the wall. They were in the royal armory and weapons of every kind hung gleaming from the walls and filling the air with the smell of leather and steel. Edmund turned to face Peter again, thoughtfully.

"Who you bringing with you?" Peter asked.

"I've decided to take Peridan, I think he will be quite indispensable, and Flavis, he is calm and steadying and he has so bravely agreed to take on the sea journey, for as you know, centaurs don't sail well. I think Equus is best left behind, as he tends to be absent minded," Edmund said.

"And you'll sail on the _Black Swan_?" Peter asked.

"If you like," Edmund said, "the _Splendor Hyaline_ is getting a plank replaced, but she'll be ready to sail by the time we go."

"Take the _Black Swan_," Peter said, "She's faster and better armed. I want you to take a band of marines as well."

Edmund raised the other eyebrow, "I will."

"Look," Peter said standing up and fastening his sword belt on, "We probably shouldn't tell the girls about this."

Edmund nodded thoughtfully, "probably not."

"You could bring me."

The voice was deep, but smooth and Peter and Edmund looked up at once. A pair of eyes glimmered in the corner and as they stared, they saw a singular person hanging upside-down from the ceiling, a black cloak thrown about him, his eyes slits in his dark face.

"Chessy," Edmund said with a laugh, "You always give me a turn."

The bat stretched out a wing thoughtfully, then wrapped it more tightly around himself. "I'm always here, sire. I'm a spy. I've been commissioned. I'm in service. Take me with you."

"I will," Edmund said, "I think I'd like to have you along."

"Excellent," and the bat turned his back to them and vanished in the shadows of the corner.

* * *

><p>The day before Edmund and Susan left for Calormen, Eva, official lady in waiting to Queen Lucy, found a letter pushed under her door. Being a resourceful creature, she inspected it carefully before opening it. It was written on stiff pale purple paper, vaguely scented of lilacs. The pen that had written her name in elegant scrolling letters had obviously been trimmed by Flavis, who happened to be the best pen trimmer in the castle, and Eva decided at once that the letter was from Queen Susan.<p>

Eva tore it open and read:

_Eva,_

_You will watch over Lucy while I'm gone, wont you, dear? And Peter, too? I'm afraid he does not know when to stop working. If he does not go to bed at a reasonable time, tell him I've given you my permission to make him go. _

_ And do make sure that Eustace does not take on too much, while we're away. _

_Cair Paravel needs looking after, also. If you could, make sure that Peter's hounds don't run the place down too much. _

_I'm feeling like I ought not go at all, but Peter says that now I have agreed to go I must go. I know I should do the prince the courtesy of returning his visit. Things do seem to be going very well with Narnia's relations with Telmar and Calormen, but there is a problem with the giants in the north. I really don't know._

_Have you ever been in love, dear? I think not, but if you have, can you tell me what it is like, please?_

_I am going to miss you. I wish that you were coming with us, but Peter put his foot down, you are, "not going to go gallivanting about. I need somebody left to make up a court." He's afraid that you will get into trouble, skin a Tarkaan or some such thing. _

_Susan R._

Eva smilingly dropped the letter on her table and galloped into Lucy's room to do the queen's hair.

It wasn't until that afternoon that Susan spotted a letter, with paper of a pale green hue, shoved under her door. Stooping to pick it up, she found it smelled like mint and the hand in which her name was written would have been very fine had it not been for the many blots that marred it.

Susan tore it open and read:

_Dearest Queen Susan,_

_ Thank you for your very thoughtful letter. I will be sure to use the power to put King Peter to bed (perhaps I'll even start regular nap times, too...I'll think about it! _J)

_I will make sure about Lord Eustace, everyone around here does tend to do too much work, I'm afraid I might be the only one who doesn't and I will make sure I pull my own weight for a change! The hounds will stay put; I promise...in fact I believe there's one scratching at my door at this moment..._

_Of course you should go, I'm quite certain everything will go perfectly while you are gone and I think Lord Eustace is quite capable of coping (with Queen Lucy of course)._

_No, I have never been in love, and I don't ever plan to be, but I don't think one can decide that sort of thing. Who knows? Maybe I'll marry a little brown Dwarf and live out the rest of my days underground. Well, since I never have been in love, then I can't tell you, but I could certainly imagine what it's like. I'll imagine it for you, while you are gone, and tell you about it when you get back. _

_I'll miss you too, but I think King Peter thinks I'm too dangerous a subject to let loose on the world; I may even skin the Tisroc himself (may he live forever!). But I still don't see why he'd care whether I got in trouble or not. Why does everyone think I get in trouble anyway? I find that most insulting!_

_Most affectionately yours,_

_ Eva, Lady in waiting to Queen Lucy_

"Oh Eva," Susan said, smiling.

"Oh Eva? Why 'Oh Eva'?" Susan spun around to see Eva standing in the door, "What did I do this time? Oh great! Now I'm starting to accuse myself, I really am a mental case!"

"You didn't do a thing, you're just the funniest." Susan said smiling, then paused, thoughtful, "Except Corin…that scamp."

"Me? Funny?" Eva snorted, "Where ever did you get that idea? You must be talking to King Peter too much; he thinks I'm a riot. I just say one thing, one thing mind you, and he burst out laughing! It's simply outrageous!"

She threw herself down in a chair, looking most ill-used.

Susan smiled, "I've always thought that Peter took you rather seriously."

"I doubt it. How can someone who takes you seriously laugh at you all the time?" she paused, "Unless it's a way of showing how serious you are, by laughing...I don't know..."

"Tell him that one, he'd probably like it," Susan laughed.

"When we're on talking terms again. Right now I'm mad at him." Eva said.

"Why are you mad at him?" Susan asked, an eyebrow raised, "Honestly, the time you two spend fighting…"

"We don't fight, we just disagree and argue." Eva sighed, "Or rather I disagree and argue, he just stands there and smiles. I'm mad at him because he opened the door for me."

"Why would that make you angry?" Susan asked.

"I don't know…!"

"Oh Eva," Susan smiled.

"There you go again!" Eva exclaimed. "I just don't think it's right for a High King, a _High King_ mind you, to open a door for a lowly lady-in-waiting. It just seems wrong."

"But is not the High King merely a servant?" Susan asked, smiling, "And are you not a lady? I've always thought if very polite for gentlemen to open doors for ladies…unless you are accusing Peter of not being a gentleman...?"

"Oh no!" Eva jumped up, "I didn't mean that at all! He's the most gentlemanly gentleman I've ever met! It's just…!" and she threw herself down again.

Susan laughed; shaking her head, then grew serious and took Eva's hands, "You _will_ look after Lucy while I'm gone? Promise?"

"Of _course_!" Eva exclaimed. "That's my job! I'm afraid she's stuck with me."

~o*o~

The night before Edmund and Susan left for Calormen she didn't sleep. She had bad dreams and she kept waking up, feeling like there was something creeping up on her. She was having a really horrific dream about a green snake turning into a banana when she woke with a start.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to see through the velvety darkness, listening…listening…she heard it again, a soft, stealthy tread across the floor. Her heart thumped against her chest and she caught her breath and closed her eyes, trying to steady her shaking body.

When she opened them again, a dark figure was blocking the moonlight in the window. She could hear its breathing, rapid, yet soft, as if it were trying to be silent. Then suddenly she saw long dark arms and a flash of moonlight on steel.

"Die Queen Lucy!" It hissed.

It was then that she screamed, and rolled over. She groped under her pillow for her dagger, then stabbed up, as the darkness descended on her.


	16. Ship of the Desert

Ship of the Desert

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><p><em>A camel looks like a horse that was planned by a committee.<em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>Aravis jerked to the kick in her back as the caravan master walked through the sleeping forms of the camel boys to wake them for the morning work. With a moan she sat up, spitting sand from her mouth.<p>

"His majesty is waking up," the leering voice of one of the bigger boys made her look up and scowl.

"Your majesty," another made an exaggerated bow, flourishing a hand.

"Leave him alone," Shasta said quietly, climbing to his feet, his robe ghostly in the predawn light. He held out his hand to help her, but she ignored it and scrambled to her own feet, drawing the dirty ends of her turban tighter around her head.

Deep, lumpy shadows showed where the camels lay, their legs folded under them. Aravis shivered in the early morning chill, as she lugged a bucket from the watering hole to the place where Bree and Hwin stood, sniffing half heartedly at the dry grass that grew in the sand.

They had arrived at the well the night before and Aravis had watched in fascination as the camels drank, their sagging humps slowly rising like inflating balloons as the time passed. They wouldn't be drinking again for another week.

"Morning," Bree muttered through sips of water.

"Good morning," Aravis said and absently rubbed the base of Hwin's ear in the place she loved the best.

Shasta she saw was with the other boys, feeding and milking the camels and strapping their pack saddles to load the goods that the caravan master was bringing to Tashbaan. Once, a corner of the canvas that had kept one of the packs out of the searing heat of days and plummeting cold of night had ripped and Aravis had touched brocaded silk, the color of the morning sky. Shasta had seen it too and his eyes had widened when she'd whispered to him, somewhat smugly, that she had a dress of very similar material. Shasta had never seen the like and his fingers were halfway to touching it when the whip of the caravan master fell on his back.

He'd been whipped in the afternoon, whipped until he bled, for steeling.

"Horeb!" Aravis looked up; it was the name they had agreed to call her until they left the caravan behind. Shasta gestured, "Breakfast!"

She followed him to the place where the other camel boys squabbled around a bucket of cold chunks of meat in thick gravy. One of the camel calves had died yesterday and they had meat for the first time in their journey. Aravis thumped and kicked, but she was the smallest of them and the others were strong and avaricious. Shasta's punch meant more than hers and presently she had a place before the bucket, groping in the slimy depths, her stomach flipping…the stuff was disgusting.

"Here," she handed the largest chunk she could to Shasta where he stood behind her. It was the least she could do, she supposed.

"Thank you," he said, half surprised.

The shadow of the rock outcropping they camped behind fell over them as the sun began to rise into the sky. It was still cool, but the wind was warm. Aravis wiped her hands off and took the water skins Shasta gave her to refill at the well. One of them still had its head on, a goat's head, flopping against her leg as she walked, lugging it to a camel to strap it down.

The camels were rising now. With gravely groans, they began rocking to their feet, their legs ever longer in the rays of the sun as they spread silently over the horizon. Aravis stepped back, staring up at the camel before her as he suddenly towered above her, twice her height. He leered down at her like the bullies leered and she scowled back.

The caravan master was on his own camel as it lurched to its feet and everyone scrambled to their own mounts. Aravis grabbed Hwin's saddle blanket and threw the saddle after it, vexed to see that the leather was beginning to crack. She hauled up the girth, struggling to cinch the stiff leather, rock hard in the dry heat. Shasta pushed her aside and jammed the tongue of the buckle home.

"Thank you," Aravis said grudgingly, fitting the bit into Hwin's mouth.

They mounted and the horses swung around after the camels, bringing up the rear, helping to shepherd the herd forward. The camels complained as they swung into their strange, awkward gait, their heads held high.

"There's an old story about Tash."

Aravis looked up, half surprised to find Shasta talking to her. "What's that?" Her face was dry, she didn't feel like talking.

"He made the horse fleet as the wind; he made the mule stubborn as dry wood; he made the dog to guard the sleeping house; he made the goat to give us milk; he made them all beautiful," Shasta said, "and when he was done, he took all the leftover parts and made the camel."

Aravis laughed, her eyes running over the camels as they swung along ahead of them, "figures."

~o*o~

The sun was high, flashing down on the red hills and the scrubby bushes that grew dry and tangled at their foot. The land seemed as unchanging as the burning sky and Aravis closed her eyes, sure of another dull, hot day. The camels were swinging on, pale in the sun, their green tasseled pack saddles faded and driven with the sand that filled everything. Three mares, southern bred and highly prized by the Caravan master trotted next to them, their lead ropes tethered to the pack saddles of the camels. The mares were almost as valuable to the nomads as sons and they slept in the goat skin tents alongside their masters while the camel boys huddled outside as the heat of the day fled, chased by the chill of the night.

"Aravis?"

"What is it?" Aravis snapped.

Shasta was undaunted, "why are the camels' saddles green? Green dye is expensive."

"Green is sacred to Tash," Aravis said shortly. Because she was educated he seemed to think she knew everything.

"Oh," Shasta said, nodding. She knew everything, he was sure of it. "What's it like to be a Tarkheena?"

Aravis rolled her eyes, "much different from being a beggar."

"I was just-"

"Don't ask any more questions," Aravis snapped, "Or you'll break the proverbial camel's back."

"Point taken," Shasta said, shrugging. "I was just wondering."

"Don't."

"You sound like a wet cat, Aravis," Bree's voice was hushed, but she could hear the lordly tone.

"Shut up," Aravis said. "Someone will hear you."

"We _are_ here too," Hwin said gently, "Though you might not believe it."

Aravis kicked her, none too gently and they continued on, swinging in silence.

The heat was unbearable and it only grew worse as the day wore on. The sky was gold with shivering haze and Aravis wondered what she'd done to deserve such torture. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that both Shasta and Bree glanced at the horizon periodically, worry on their faces, but Aravis did not grow alarmed until the caravan master held up his hand, halting the column.

"What's happening?" Aravis asked.

"Sand storm," Shasta said shortly.

"Where?" Aravis' eyes widened as she looked at him.

Shasta pointed and Aravis looked, but only golden haze brilliant with sunlight met her eyes. For a moment she thought he was getting back at her, then she saw something darker, rolling brown and white, coming in a low bank from the golden sky. It surged on, like the rolling blue breakers on a beach, yet so much taller and more terrifying. It rose like a mountain, a bank of brown whirling sand, coming to close in on them, devouring the blue sky.

There were shouts ahead of them and the whole caravan swung around, making for the hills and an outcropping of rocks in the distance. Goaded by their drivers, the camels growled, then broke into a slow lope. The horses surged after them, fear in their laid back ears. Aravis glanced behind again, seeing that wall of sand coming on ever faster, threatening to block out the sun. Shasta was wrapping the end of his turban around his face so only his eyes showed, he gestured for her to do the same.

They reached the outcropping of rocks and with moans, the camels lowered themselves down, closing their heavy eyelids to the sand that already whirled through the air. Bree and Hwin swung around, their tails to the storm and Shasta dismounted, pulling Aravis down. She jerked away from him and he snatched at her hand, but missed.

Then she looked over her shoulder.

It was like a wave breaking. One moment, she could see blue sky above her, the next, the wind hit her and with it the sand. She choked as her mouth filled with driving sand and through half closed eyelids; she saw a red gloom roaring around her.

"Shasta?" she croaked and stumbled forward, hands outstretched. She turned away from it, as it beat against her like heavy rain and drove down her clothes, rubbing the skin on her arms raw.

Then a hand had hears.

"Shasta?"

"It's all right," he shouted. His face was a vague shadow. "Lay down! It's all right."

She laid down, back to the storm and felt his chapped, large hand clutching hers. Normally, she wouldn't touch him for the world, but at the moment, she was thinking of him along the lines of an angel from heaven. It would pass.


	17. Murder and Mayhem

Murder and Mayhem

* * *

><p><em>Some people are like Slinkies - not really good for anything, but you still can't help but smile when you see one tumble down the stairs.<em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>Lucy only happened to be traversing happily down the hallway when she heard the shriek. It woke her out of a sound sleep and she found herself lying on the floor wondering what had happened.<p>

A door slammed and a dark form leaped from somewhere and tripped over her legs, landing on the floor next to her.

"What?" Lucy said.

"Lucy!" Peter's disembodied voice exclaimed.

"I think I was sleep walking," Lucy said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, staring into the darkness, "Who screamed?"

"What in the world is going on?" Edmund's best cross, sleepy voice sounded from above them.

"Lucy was sleepwalking, and she screamed." Peter explained.

"Oh was that…"

"I did not scream!" Lucy exclaimed, "Susan! Perhaps she's in trouble!" she darted to her feet just in time to collide with another elusive figure.

"Oh…Lucy!" Susan's voice came gently from the darkness, "what on earth is going on?"

"She was sleepwalking and she screamed," Peter happily informed her.

"I did _not _scream!"

'Hey!" another voice came out of the darkness, "What's happening? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Corin," Susan's voice sounded, "Go back to bed, nothing happened."

"Lucy was sleepwalking and she screamed," Peter said joyfully.

"I did _not _scream!"

And as if to agree with her, another shriek echoed down the corridor, a rather irritated shriek this time.

"Who was that?" Peter asked doubtfully.

"It wasn't me, in case you were wondering," Lucy said.

"I bet it came from down the hallway," Edmund said helpfully.

A door slammed.

"Who screamed?" Eustace's voice exclaimed.

"It wasn't me!" Lucy explained quickly.

"Eeeeeeeee!" the shriek came again. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Well, whoever it is has good lungs," Peter said, taking his hands away from his ears.

"If I didn't know better," Susan said, "I'd say that was Eva."

"Maybe you don't know better and it is Eva," Edmund suggested thoughtfully.

"Maybe it is," Lucy said, "I'm going to find out."

They followed her down the hallway and watched while she found the only torch that hadn't gone out yet and blew it back to life. Then she proceeded to knock on Eva's door.

"Eeeeeeee!" was the reply.

"It was Eva," Lucy said, grinning over her shoulder at the others, "I bet it's a joke!"

She opened the door and slipped in, Susan followed, closing the door behind her.

"I think I'm going to go back to bed…" Eustace said.

Suddenly two screams, behind the door, fired in quick succession. Eustace and Edmund burst through the door at the same moment, Peter a second behind them.

"What on earth?" Peter exclaimed.

The room was dark except for Lucy's torch, and Lucy herself sank to her knees, staring, while Susan moved gingerly across the floor, as if deathly afraid of something.

There was a gasp from Edmund, a grunt from Eustace and Peter finally saw what they were looking at.

Eva's bed, casting an inky black shadow behind it, was in the full light of the torch. Across it lay a man, his hand on the hilt of a sword, stabbed deeply into the mattress.

"Is-is he dead?" Susan whispered.

"Where's Eva?" Lucy quavered.

"What happened?" Corin asked.

Peter strode past Susan, grasped the man by the shoulders and rolled him over. He was dead. His head lolled back, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. A dagger was up to the hilt in his chest.

"I feel so _unwanted_!"

Eva herself emerged from under the man. "He wasn't even _trying_ to kill me!"

She stood up, her night shift a picture of gore and blood.

"Eva?" Peter said.

"Eva!" Lucy exclaimed, almost sobbing.

"How pathetic!" Eva exclaimed, "How _utterly_ pathetic! If he had killed me, it would have been by accident! How ridiculous would it sound if I told someone I was killed by accident? How…how _pathetic_!"

"What happened?" Corin asked again, now fully awake, and beginning to grasp the situation, "I wish it had happened to me!"

"No you don't," Eva said quickly, "You don't know, how…how…_useless _it makes you feel if someone tries to kill you by accident! I wouldn't have half minded if he was actually trying to kill _me, _not someone else!"

"If he wasn't trying to kill you," Edmund said, "Who _was_ he trying to kill?"

"Oh!" Eva exclaimed, putting her hand to her mouth, "You are probably all in danger! He was trying to kill Lucy!"

"Lucy?" Peter asked, his voice sounding like a little boy who is completely bewildered.

~o*o~

"It was most certainly a Telmarine," Peter said.

They were all sitting in a sitting room, discussing the previous happenings.

"But why?" Susan cried; she had a headlock on Lucy, afraid now to let her out of her sight, "Why would anyone want to kill…kill…" she couldn't bring herself to say it, "Oh Lucy!"

"Lucy is queen of western Narnia," Peter said at last, turning from the window and throwing himself down on the sofa next to Eustace, "I can only think that the Telmarines intend to invade and wanted to create some sort of turmoil."

"We can't possibly leave today with this!" Susan exclaimed.

"It would be considered a grave insult to the Calormenes if you didn't show." Eustace reminded them quietly.

"How would it be if we postpone our voyage?" Susan suggested.

"The wind is right, _now_," Edmund spoke at last, "It would be another fortnight before the wind and tides would be this good again, Aslan knows I don't want to go now, but I say we must go."

"I agree," Peter said, standing up, "Where's Martin?"

"Oh…" Lucy looked up at him worriedly, "Didn't you know?"

"Know what?" Peter asked, "I know he hasn't been around for a while and if he has it's only for a short time."

"Oh…" Lucy said again, then proceeded very quickly, "I sent him down south, to the mountains, he's been longing to build himself a castle and continue training troops and he seemed so restless…he says Narnia is entirely too peaceful…of course that was _before_ you disarmed him the second time in your duel."

Peter sat down again, "Lucy! You didn't! Send our best general off just when all this is happening! You knew our relations with the Tarmarines are very delicate! The south! You could have at least had him build it in the north!"

"I'm sorry," Lucy made herself very small. "Don't be mad!"

"I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed."

They sat quietly after that, watching the sunrise through the tall, wide windows in the east end of the room. It was a very silent, calm early morning, almost silver in its glory. The ocean seemed very wide, the sky high and glowing.

A quiet knock came at the door and at Peter's reply the door opened and Clyte, with the lady Eva hanging over her shoulder, looked into the room.

"Queen Susan, King Edmund?" Clyte stepped quietly into the room, "My brother Peridan says that we must board the _Black Swan_ before the tide turns."

"Of course," Edmund stood up and offered his hand to Susan, "Are you ready, sister?"

"As ready as I shall ever be," Susan sighed, taking his hand and rising. "Where's Corin?"

"I believe he went back to bed," Lucy said.

"That's hardly like him, especially with Edmund and Susan leaving, he'd see them off no doubt." Peter said.

"He'll probably appear before we leave," Susan said thoughtfully to herself. "Perhaps you should make plans to send him back to Lune after we are gone."

"We'll do that," Peter said.

"Eva!" Susan reached out to take the latter's hands, "How are you? Do you think you'll ever recover?"

"I think I recovered before it happened," Eva said, laughing.

"I feel dreadful about leaving," Susan said.

"Don't, please don't," Eva said, "Have a lovely time. Heaven's knows you deserve it if anyone does."

"You're so sweet."

"Me sweet?" Eva laughed, "You must be looking at me cross-eyed."

"You must be," Edmund agreed, taking Susan's arm and guiding her through the door. Eva watched her go with half a smile on her face; she turned to look up at Peter as he stopped beside her.

"You'll have to stay sane for me," he whispered under his breath, "I certainly won't, what with love-sotted sisters, danger to the west and departing brothers."

"Love-sotted, eh? Don't say it too loud," Eva whispered back. "It really is hard to understand why some people have the nerve to fall in love...what a ghastly thing to do."

* * *

><p>AN: I know this chapter was a bit silly and pointless, but I do _try_ to be serious...most the time. If this seems familiar, it is, _Narnia Recycled_ was based on this story.

Were we the only ones who couldn't log onto fanfiction yesterday?


	18. Migration

Migration

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><p><em>Vacation is what you take when you can't take what you've been taking any longer.<em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>It was a silver morning, hanging with mist, just before the sun would burn it away. The docks were crowded by Narnians who had traveled far to see the King and Queen embark. They made an early morning noise, almost hushed, yet loud enough to sound like the roaring of a waterfall. The shrill calls of street vendors and the faint sound of steam hissing at the boat builder's shop punctured it at intervals.<p>

The _Black Swan_ herself was merely a black silhouette against the silver sky. The dock at which she was moored, the customs building and the road to Cair Paravel had been marked off with ropes and castle guards held off the press of the crowd while servants pushed a red carpet off the _Black Swan _and watched it unroll down the gangplank to the dock.

Then, the crown pressed harder, trying to see down the road between the houses. Faintly they heard the band, playing the national anthem. Centaurs, tall, proud, with plaid over their shoulders, carrying their bagpipes, came first, then the Dwarfs marched with their drums. Then came Lord Paladin on his warhorse, closely followed by, Peridan, his nephew. Peridan was flanked by his sister, Lady Clyte, his brother Baeth and Lord Flavis. Behind them were Lord Shard and Lord Loki. Mr. Tumnus the faun followed them, wearing a blue silk scarf for the occasion.

The sun was higher and the mist was beginning to fade when Queen Susan and King Edmund arrived riding abreast. A cheer rent the air and the crowd pressed harder, hats soared into the sky and even the pounding of copper nails on a hove down merchant vessel ceased and the river otters came over to watch. Behind King Edmund and Queen Susan, rode the High King Peter and Queen Lucy atop their steeds. The cheers rose to a fever pitch and the guards fought to keep the people on their side of the ropes.

At last, those who were mounted dismounted and King Edmund gave a short speech, then he and Queen Susan took their final leave of their royal brother and sister and King Edmund gave his arm to Queen Susan and they mounted the red rugged ramp and boarded the _Black Swan_. The rest who were going with them followed and High King Peter and Queen Lucy remounted their horses and watched while a pod of porpoises took the forward warps of the _Black Swan_ and towed her from harbor. There was a puff of smoke and a bang as she fired a farewell cannon, then they saw her, gleaming in the sunlight on the open sea, slowly setting her sails. She heeled over and ran away, gilt figurehead burning as bright as the sun and white sails, bent like flower petals in the morning light.

"They're gone, then," Lucy said, "Now all we have to do is sit and wait for them to return."

"Yes," Peter said, slowing turning his horse and trying his best not to look like the world was ending, "In the meantime I'm going to try to find Corin. He's vanished."

~o*o~

Lucy felt very dull as she returned to Cair Paravel alongside Peter. Eva, as one of her ladies in waiting, rode behind her, whistling cheerfully.

"How can you be so happy?" Lucy asked, looking over her shoulder at Eva and seeing her sitting almost cross-legged in her sidesaddle, in a most unladylike manner.

"I'm whistling wind for them," Eva said. "Aren't _you_ happy?"

"Not really," Lucy said, "I wish I was going on an adventure, too."

Eva clicked her tongue, "don't stay sad for long," she said, "It depresses everyone when you are sad."

"It does at that," Peter said, trying his best to raise his own fallen spirits, "I'm sure something exciting will happen sometime soon. In the meantime, there's the issue with the squirrels you could sort out-"

"I wish _they _would sort it out."

"They have been," Peter said. "Just yesterday there was a case of assault and battery and Lord Eartufts is suing because Sir Oaktop knocked out his best tooth."

* * *

><p>Edmund, standing on the main top with the telescope, was perfectly happy. Sailing did that to him; it took his worst mood, threw it in the sea and replaced it with a happy one. The ship was a bird, she flew like a hawk, skimming the water, dipping and flying. Beautiful.<p>

He felt like a little boy again, not a man of twenty-six, hanging precariously with one hand off the ratlines and pointing the telescope out towards the sea. He knew he was frightening Susan and he could see her standing on the deck, next to the companionway, staring up at him. She was saying something he not could hear, but he could certainly guess what it was.

"Don't fall off! Do be careful! Please come down! What if you fall?"

He trained the telescope on her, seeing her worried upturned face. He could just see the top of Flavis' curly black head down the companionway. It was good of the centaur to come. Shard was sunning himself on the deck, flat out on his side as if he were dead. He was next to one of the empty rainwater barrels and Edmund could see what looked like a coil of rope in it. Edmund focused the telescope more firmly, in time to see the coil of rope move slightly. The truth dawned on him and he closed the telescope with a snap and stowed it in his pocket.

He was now King Edmund the Just, no longer was he the little boy. He grabbed the shrouds and swung free of the main top, wrapping his legs around the rope and sliding down. He hit the deck with a determined thump, strode past Susan and across the deck. There he put his hands on the edge of the water barrel and looked in.

Susan heard a muffled squeak and the next instant Edmund heaved a very indigent Prince Corin out of the barrel.

"Corin! How could you!" Susan exclaimed, running to throw her arms around him, "What will we do?"

"Well," Edmund said, "we certainly can't return him. You know what the winds are like on the coast this time of year. It will be in our teeth the whole way and we'll lose time." Edmund glanced at Corin, "Don't you dare look smug, you little stowaway!"

"But what will we do!" Susan asked again, "King Lune…!"

"We aren't so far out to sea that we can't send a pigeon to Peter and tell him what's happened," Edmund said logically. "Corin…" He sighed, "Little trouble maker. You knew what you were about, didn't you?"

Corin grinned and made a poor attempt to wiggle his ears.

* * *

><p>It was that night that Peter could not sleep. He felt restless somehow, bothered by something. It wasn't even that Corin was missing still. It wasn't that his dear sister might be marrying a man in some foreign land. He rose from his bed and paced the room, pausing to stare out the window at the full moon. He turned to look back into the room, he caught sight of a golden bas-relief of a lion's head on the wall and he strode over to it.<p>

It was intricately made, dwarfin work, of the finest gold. Lucy had given it to him for his birthday last year and he had hung it there in honor.

A little calmer, he went back to bed and fell asleep.

~o*o~

Peter woke again, perhaps woke, perhaps not, he never was sure. It was very dark and the fire in the hearth was burning hotly, though he had never refueled it. He sat up and stared about the room and suddenly caught sight of a lion, the Lion, standing in the door of his room, his great head held high, his eyes shining.

"Aslan!" Peter exclaimed as he rose and went to him to kneel at his feet. Aslan breathed on him and bade him rise.

"Peter," Aslan said softly, "There is work for you to do; a month ago a great green giant came to your hall. You struck off his head and in return he wished to strike off yours, therefore, go to Ettinsmoor and find the green chapel."

It was then that Peter woke. He looked about him, the fire had gone down and a cold draft came through his open door.

~o*o~

Baeth only happed to be there. Queen Lucy had caught him and was now quite happily unwinding a skein of wool onto his hands and he stood there, half wondering when it would end. The Lady Eva and the Lady Ellen were weaving on great looms, talking over the steady rattle and thump of them. Baeth was almost mesmerized by the flicker of the shuttles flashing between their hands behind the lines of wool.

It was then that King Peter bounded through the door and closed it with a bang. The looms stopped at the same moment as the weavers turned to look at him. He was dressed in chainmail under a plain leather tabard, his sword hung at his side and he was wearing a short riding cloak. On seeing him, Lucy dropped her skein of wool upon the ground and stood up.

"I'm leaving!" he exclaimed.

"What happened?" she asked, "Where are you going?"

"Last night Aslan came to me," Peter said, "I hardly know whether it was a dream, a vision or what, but he told me I must go to the green chapel in Ettinsmoor."

Lucy's hand stole to her mouth, "But you can't! Not if something's going to happen with Telmar!"

"He told me to," Peter said, "If anything did happen with Telmar, I'm sure you'd be able to handle it, especially with Eustace to help. Well, anyway, I'm leaving at once."

"Right now, your highness?" Eva asked.

"I believe 'right now' means the same thing as 'at once'." Peter said logically, "Yes, I'm leaving right now, at once, this very hour."

"Are you ready to leave?" Lucy asked, "Are you taking anyone with you?"

"Yes, I am ready to leave," Peter said, "And I'm taking two horses and a pack horse with me."

"You mean you're going by yourself?" Lucy exclaimed.

"Of course!" Peter exclaimed.

"Oh," Lucy said.

"Lucky beast," Eva muttered, "Your majesty." She added quickly when Peter looked at her oddly. "Is Lord Eustace going with you?"

"No, no, he's not," Peter said, "Somebody's got to stay."

"Right now it would be very nice if we could cut him into three pieces and send one with you, send one to Su and Ed and give one to Lucy," Eva said, "You just can't have too many Eustaces."

"Well," Peter said, laughing, "We'll just have to keep him whole and give him to Lucy."

~o*o~

It was the way he usually did things, very quietly and without pomp or ceremony. Eva and Lucy were the only ones who really grasped what was going on and they followed him down to the courtyard to meet up with Eustace.

"Cooking, Eustace?" Peter asked laughing when he saw the flour that smudged Eustace's doublet.

"Yes actually," Eustace said, shaking Peter's hand.

"You cook obsessively," Peter said, shaking his head.

"What's wrong with cooking?" Eustace asked, stepping back as Peter swung astride Mystic, "Honestly Peter, begging Your Majesty's pardon, how do you think food appears before you three times a day, every day?"

"I know exactly how the food gets on the table. I go hunting and catch a stag, along with anyone else who goes, of course…and I _do_ know how to cook a bit," Peter said, shortening his reins, then he winked, "You prepared to defend Narnia in my absence?"

"You cook?" Eustace asked, snorting, "I thought that was called 'burning'."

Peter laughed, then turned to Eva, "no getting yourself killed while I'm gone."

"Getting killed?" Eva squeaked, "I've never gotten killed in my life!"

"You did very nearly get yourself killed a couple nights ago," Peter said thoughtfully, then started to warm up, "what about the time that you went after a wounded stag alone and got too close? Or the time that you dressed in Ed's old armor and joined in that skirmish against the Witch's dwarfs?"

Eva stared fixedly at the cobles underfoot, "That was an accident."

"Eh?" Peter said, grinning, "So you put on the armor on by accident?"

"Something like that."

Peter laughed.

"Good bye, Peter," Lucy said, standing on tiptoe to reach him and he bent down, swinging her off her feet as he hugged her.

"Take care of yourself, little sister," he told her hair.

"And goodbye the rest of you," he said, grinning at Eva and winking at Eustace. "Keep an eye on the squirrels and the other on Telmar."

Then he turned Mystic's head, glanced behind to see that the lead ropes of Ambyr and the great black packhorse, Shenandoah, were not caught, and cantered from the courtyard. The clattering of horseshoes against stone rang in their ears.

"I wonder what will happen now." Lucy said softly as they watched him go and despite all her best efforts, she knew she was going to cry.

"I have never known anyone who could take care of himself so well as King Peter," Eva said comfortingly, putting her arm around Lucy's shoulders.

"You're right there," Eustace agreed.

* * *

><p>AN: I actually _did_ forget Corin. This whole story is rather based on a series of emails I exchanged with Rose. We realized at the last moment that we forgot to send Corin along with the Royals so we decided he stowed away...what an extremely Corinish thing to do...

~Psyche


	19. The Color of the Sky

The Color of the Sky

* * *

><p><em>I've often said there's nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse.<em>

~ Ronald Reagan

* * *

><p>Baeth certainly saw the High King go, but he watched from the window of his room. As soon as Peter had left the weaving room, Baeth went to his room, changed his clothes to something he could ride in and pushed a few things into a bag. Then, throwing his cloak about his shoulders and grabbing his sword, he went down into the lower courtyard to the stables. He found his horse, a fine-boned gray mare, easily spooked. He saddled her quickly, hardly noticing the fit she made when he tightened the girth.<p>

He led her outside, mounted her and turned her nose towards the gates.

He rode slowly, letting the mare breathe at intervals. He hated this horse, she was a quintessential female, obstinate, stuck up, controlling. If he dared touch her in the wrong place, or stroke one hair out of position she threw a fit. Steering her was well nigh impossible, her mouth was soft as a dog's, but she would rather tie herself in a knot then do what he wanted.

However, he did like her because she was very swift. Her long legs ate up miles effortlessly. She almost danced when she moved, very precise and queenly.

Baeth was quite certain he was going in the right direction. It was definitely the fastest route, over plains and through fields and finally through thick woods. He liked the woods, the tall trees blocked the burning rays of the sun and the cool wind spoke of adventure and…

Baeth suddenly found himself swinging in mid air. His horse, oddity that she was, stared at him for a moment, then took it into her head to spook quite badly. She shied to one side, then spun on her heels and took off galloping down the road, disappearing around the corner.

Baeth continued to swing in mid air, trying his best to gather his frazzled thoughts in some order and decide what was happening to him. Overhead was a tree branch to which was fastened a rope and he himself was through a loop at the end of it. Once he had decided that he wasn't merely hovering over the ground and was, in actuality, suspended from a tree by a rope, he started to make plans on how to get out.

"So, it _was_ you, I thought so."

Baeth looked down to see the High King looking calmly up at him.

"You've been following me." The High King said.

"I wanted to go with you." Baeth said.

"Were you, hey?" the High King crossed his arms and leaned back, "That might be nice, so you want to go off on a vacation to look for a green chapel in the Ettinsmoor highlands?"

"Yes Sire."

"Hm, well, I suppose." The High King looked thoughtful, "We won't tell them until we get back, eh? I'll just say I stole you."

The High King receded into the woods and a moment later Baeth was lowered gently to the ground. He stepped out of the loop and the rope fell from the branch overhead. The King pounced on it and coiled it expertly.

"Oh," Baeth said stupidly, "My horse is gone."

"No matter," the King went into the bushes again and led out his three horses, "Ride Ambyr, your horse won't be far ahead, we'll probably find her grazing on the side of the road, completely oblivious to the fact that she was deathly afraid moments before."

"She's a dreadful horse," Baeth said as he mounted Ambyr. "I'm sure she's trying to do everything against me."

Ambyr was a large horse, well trained and not without spirit. He was responsive, but his gaits, to Baeth, were extremely bumpy. The canter was the worst and for several miles down the road they cantered, Baeth, wondering if his back would snap in two.

"Sit heavy in the saddle, lad," the King said, looking over at him, "It must be painful to leave the saddle every time he takes a stride. Just sit, let him move you along and you'll slide with him. Don't try to do anything. Keep your heels down or you'll lose your stirrups, then you'll lose your seat."

"Yes…your…majesty…" Baeth gasped between landing and flying out of the saddle.

"None of that, lad," the King said, "Call me Peter, or I'll have you court marshaled. I'm on vacation, remember?"

They came around a corner and Peter pulled up his horse. Baeth thankfully brought Ambyr down to a walk, seeing his mare calmly grazing on the side of the road.

Peter dismounted and walked to the mare, she eyed him skeptically while she chewed philosophically on her mouthful of grass. He slapped her on the neck and her head dropped to the grass again. He pulled her head up, then mounted.

She stepped out for him, he kept her well between his hands and she responded perfectly, turning neat circles and finally halting.

"There's nothing wrong with her, lad," Peter said, dismounting. "She's testing you, seeing if she can trust you. You must gain her confidence and she'll make you a fine mount. When you ride her, she's in control, you're not, you must make her see that it's you, not her, who is the leader. Now, you get on."

Baeth took the reins and swung aboard and Peter mounted Mystic.

"Now," Peter said, "show me how you ride."

Baeth started the mare walking, but she had her own ideas; very few horses are really bad at heart and Cyan certainly wasn't _bad_, but she wasn't good either. She started bucking; really strong bucks, getting her head well down and using it to fling her hind legs into the air.

Baeth, like any horseman, knew that if you don't allow the horse's head down then the horse can't buck, so he pulled her head back and she broke into a gallop. It was then that tragedy struck. Baeth lost a stirrup that had been working off his foot for a while, he slid sideways, gripping with his legs, Cyan lunged forward and Baeth promptly lost the other stirrup.

"You don't have her under control," Baeth, if he'd been thinking properly would have decided that King Peter had a talent for stating the obvious. "Sit back, lad!"

Baeth's thoughts were too frazzled to even think about whether he was sitting forward or not. He pulled on the reins, hard, but pulling on the reins of a runaway horse never does any good unless you stop him with your body also.

"Drop one rein, lad, pull with the other," Baeth hadn't noticed that Peter was keeping pace with him on Mystic, "Go on, pull!"

Baeth dropped his left rein slack against Cyan's neck and pulled with the right as hard as he could. At a full gallop she spun in a circle, such a tight circle, that Baeth bumped his nose on her ear.

Around and around she went, tight and fast, Baeth pulling with all his strength. Cyan's mouth was open; her eye was wide, staring at him maliciously. The world was spinning by, then slower and slower until finally Baeth realized that she had stopped, head pulled far enough around that he was touching her nose with the toe of his boot.

"Who taught you to ride, lad?" Peter asked, frowning, "Who gave you that horse?"

"I never…really liked riding, much…" Baeth said, "I never could get the hang of it. My sister gave me Cyan, she liked her looks."

"Ah," Peter said, "Well, while we traveling north I can teach you to ride...at least better then you can now."

~o*o~

They rode far that day, so far that Baeth wondered if he would fall asleep in the saddle. Peter, riding beside him, told him stories about horses, about his own experiences riding and offered pointers about Baeth's seat and hands. His horse, Cyan, began to responded better as the time wore on. Her ears pricked back irritably, but she made no further protest.

It was dusk when they came to the small seacoast town of Henniker. They had not followed the coast their entire journey, for there was a large peninsula in the fife of Glencliff and the main road (courtesy of Eustace) cut off many miles by bypassing the peninsula.

Baeth only half guided Cyan down the dark allies after Peter's horses. They turned into a shaft of yellow light and Baeth found himself riding under a dark archway into a courtyard. The horses made at once for a water trough; But Peter snatched their heads away after only a few sips.

"Don't want them getting colic," he said, dismounting. Baeth dismounted also and swung after Peter to a hitching rail in that rolling gait peculiar to horseman and seaman.

"What is this place?" Baeth asked while he tethered Cyan next to Shenandoah.

"An inn of course, lad," Peter said, and with a turn of his wrist, had Ambyr and Mystic tethered next to Shenandoah. "It's the Eagle and the Child. They sell the best beer in the east. Some of us who come here often just call the place the Bird and the Baby."

Baeth followed Peter through a door into a warm, somewhat smoky atmosphere. There were tables and booths and a huge deep fireplace and laugher. A few men put down their tankards of beer to watch them go by, but most ignored them.

Peter made his way to a roughly hewn counter, made smooth by years. A large man with a stained leather apron came to lean on the counter.

"What can I do for ye?"

Peter leaned on the counter as well, "We have four horses that need feed and stabling and we'll want a room."

"A Tree for each horse, a Lion for the room," the man droned.

Peter made a face and pulled a leather pouch out of somewhere, "We'll sleep with the horses," he said as he counted out the pieces.

"Very good," the man shoveled together the pieces, watching them glint, "There's water in the courtyard and feed in the barn, ye can't miss it."

Peter turned away from the counter, gesturing Baeth to follow.

They bedded down the horses, Peter whistling cheerfully. Baeth was almost falling asleep as they curried every last bit of dirt off sweaty coats, picked out hooves and rubbed liniment into tired legs. He stood by, somewhat annoyed as Peter inspected Shenandoah's back critically for soars from the pack saddle, but at last the King was satisfied and they went back into the tavern to sit at a table. The waiter brought them some thick bodiless stuff in a bowl (which tasted delicious) and a couple of tankards of ale. The table they sat at was large and several men sat at it, along with several squirrels, a hedgehog and two dwarfs.

Peter joined in the conversation.

"Friends," Peter said, "I'm traveling to Ettinsmoor, do you know of anyone who might be able to guide me?"

One of the men stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The marshwiggles know a bit, but your best bet would be to go into Ettinsmoor itself and ask. They would be able to guide you better than any."

"We don't need a guide," Baeth muttered.

"Lad," Peter said, "it's always best to have someone who knows more about something then you. I know enough to know that I don't know hardly anything about Ettinsmoor."

* * *

><p>AN: It is possible to bump your nose on a horse's ear. I'm living evidence. At least I didn't make him bump along merrily behind his horse with his foot stuck in the stirrup...I'm not _that_ heartless. Horses are dangerous, but fortunately I only think of all my hair raising experiences when I'm not around them. :)

~Psyche


	20. Sky and Water

Sky and Water

* * *

><p><em>There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.<em>

~ Robert Louis Stevenson

* * *

><p>The water churned to froth at her forefoot as she ran before the wind. She ran quickly, the wind was stiff and the sun sparkled through the spray in rainbow hues. That sail was like a dream that never lasts long enough. Everything was perfect, the weather, the water, the sun, the people and the ship herself, her black bows cleaving the water like a knife, true to its mark.<p>

As the days flew past like the seagulls that pitched and swept above them, the brown shores of Calormen gave way to yellow-gray sand and finally opened up to a great river.

The _Swan _came about and turned into the river as tall rock walls rose up on either side of her. They were met by merchant vessels: buff bowed ships from the Seven Isles, great galleys from Terebinthia, Calormen dhows and hoys of the Lone Islands.

The city of Tashbaan herself was built on a conical island in the middle of the river, it was a great city and it rose before them in the distance like a golden pillar.

* * *

><p>They left the next morning, early.<p>

It was noon when the sky grew very dark and rain came down in a flood, soaking them through. The horses were slogged down in the mud and Baeth could hardly see before him. He hung grimly on while Cyan leaped deer-like over puddles and he listened with outrage while Peter sang at the top of his lungs in his near operatic baritone. It is hard listening to joyful singing, especially with a trickle of ice-cold water wandering thoughtfully down the middle of your back.

"You don't know _anything_ about Ettinsmoor?" Baeth asked, finally.

"I've only been there a very few times," Peter said, "All the Lairds have sworn fealty to us, they pay their taxes and they abide by the laws. Eustace and Edmund have been there more then I have."

"I've always heard it was a mysterious place," Baeth commented.

"It is rather. It's a land of very patriotic, wild people, fiercely loyal to each other and anyone who has won their respect. Of the countries north of Archenland, Ettinsmoor was the only one that held out against the Witch. When my siblings and I first came to Narnia, we nearly went there instead of Archenland."

"What decided you against it?" Baeth asked.

"Archenland was much closer," Peter said. "We arrived smack in the middle of southern Narnia."

It seemed like hours peering through layers of gray rain before it began to grow darker. Only when night finally fell, did the rain let up slightly. Baeth muttered that they could see no better now than they could before.

Baeth was nearly falling asleep on his horse when Peter swung off Mystic and called to Baeth to do the same. Baeth did so and felt himself go to his knees in cold water. Cyan lunged forward at that moment and Baeth slipped and would have fallen if it were not for Peter's hand at his collar.

"Easy lad," he laughed, "we can't have you drowning so soon into our trip."

Baeth groped into the dark and felt the smooth, wet leather of Cyan's saddle and held on firmly.

The next moment Peter let out a bellow.

"Marshwiggle!" he took a breath, "Ahoy there!

The soft rustle of rain on water was the only reply.

"Ahoy!"

"Double Blast," Peter muttered under his breath, then said louder, "We're in a pickle if they don't hear us, I _told _you I don't know much."

"Maybe if we both shout at the same time?" Baeth suggested.

"Maybe!"

But, there was no need, because a small flickering light appeared through the rain.

"Ahoy?" a thin reedy voice came, barely audible.

"Ahoy!" Peter replied good-naturedly.

"Have enemies landed in Narnia?" the voice came again.

"No, we've landed in your gorgeous swamp!"

"You'll drown I shouldn't wonder."

"I shouldn't wonder," Peter replied happily enough.

The light came a bit closer, revealing the bearer as a very odd person. His body was about the size of a dwarf's, but he was as tall as Peter because of his very long arms and legs. At long, sharp nose surmounted his extremely sad feathers and his lanky gray hair was topped by a pointed straw hat that wilted a bit at the top. Stoically, he shook hands, first with Peter, then with Baeth. The latter nearly cried out in surprise when he found that the marshwiggle's hands were webbed like a frog's. Baeth didn't even want to think about the chap's feet.

"Up this way," the marshwiggle said glumly, "But it won't do you any good, I shouldn't wonder, the horses'll be scared stiff."

The horses did move, however. The marshwiggle directed them to solid ground just to the right and the horses were very obliging and climbed up onto it with enthusiasm. There was a bit of a scuffle when the bank gave way under Shenandoah's hind hooves, but they soon had it sorted.

Peter located a sweat scraper from Shenandoah's pack and he and Baeth stripped most of the water off the horses before leading them into a deserted wigwam and rubbing them down. Then they followed the marshwiggle (whose name was Mudgloom) into his own wigwam.

"I haven't much to offer you in the way of food," the wiggle said glumly. "Marsh fare doesn't sit well with human digestion. You'll die before the night is through, I shouldn't wonder."

But despite his moaning he dished them each up a bowl of cold eel stew and they found it very good indeed, especially since, as Baeth noted, they hadn't stopped for lunch. Peter looked sheepish, then turned to the wiggle.

"What's the news in these parts, friend?"

"Oh, nothing much, I suppose," Mudgloom said sadly, "we should be thankful that the dragons have left us alone for the most part, bad sign, I shouldn't wonder, they're probably just gathering strength and getting ready to attack. Have you heard about the High King?"

"No," Peter said, "What did the High King do?"

"He supposedly killed a giant up at Paravel," the marshwiggle's face grew longer, "I shouldn't wonder if it were the other way around."

Peter shouted with laugher, he couldn't help himself.

"And now," Mudgloom said, trying to ignore Peter's singularly rude outburst, "The Queen Susan and the King Edmund have gone off to Calormen, probably get their throats cut while they're there. Then we will only be left with the Queen Lucy and I've heard," he leaned closer, "That she laughs too much."

Peter barely contained himself this time and only chuckled. Baeth had better success and clamped his teeth shut.

"Well, I dare say you shall want to go to sleep now," Mudgloom said, "There are rugs in the corner. Though you won't get any sleep, the wigwam will be washed away before the night is through, if you don't die of the eel stew first, I shouldn't wonder."

They lay down in the corner and Peter was asleep in a moment like a dead log or an old sailor too long at sea. Baeth was not as fortunate. The Marshwiggle snored.

* * *

><p>They had to tack upriver and the current was against them. It was slow work, hot work under the searing Calormene sun. Blocks creaked, tar bubbled from the deck and the sails glowed so white it was impossible to look at them.<p>

Susan was on the quarterdeck, under a canopy they had rigged for her. It was far too hot to go below, too hot to read, too hot to talk, so she watched the liquid green shadow of the _Swan _slip along the sparkling waves. There were tiny insects dancing in the shadow, flies perhaps, maybe mosquitoes. The way they hopped, they looked like fleas.

Susan looked towards the deck, watching the shiny, sunburnt backs of the men as they jumped to man the sheets when the captain hollered "ready about…hard alee!"

Corin was sitting cross-legged on the smooth golden-varnished keel of one of the stacked dories on deck, taking sightings with a sextant. Susan watched the flash of the ship's chronometer in his hand, then he slid off the dory and came running, climbing up the ladder to the quarterdeck like a monkey.

"I've got it this time," He exclaimed breathlessly, collapsing under the canopy and snatching a chart laying half crumpled against the rail. "I know I have!"

"Are you sure?" Susan asked distantly, "Last time you charted our position we were in the middle of Ettinsmoor."

"This time I'll have it right," Corin said and started to multiply at a fever pace. Then, with shaking hands, he caught up the chart and marked the place his numbers indicated.

"Well?" Susan asked, a faint smiled slipping up her face, "Where are we, then?"

Corin turned a tragic face towards her and sighed emphatically. "The middle of Dancing Lawn."

"Oh Corin!" Susan started to laugh, it felt good to laugh. She felt as if she were cracking her dry face. "Come Corin, let's dance!"

They caught hands and danced around the quarterdeck. Susan was glad to move around. It did not seem quite as hot with wind rushing through the thin white silk of her dress. They both collapsed laughing on the teak planks; Susan brushed a wisp of dark hair from her face.

"I'm almost thinking of asking King Edmund to throw a line over the stern and tow me." Corin said.

"Me too." Susan said, then looked up at the towering mizzenmast bobbing steadily across the sky. "What do you think of Calormen so far?"

"Hot." Corin grinned and waved his hand in front of his face.

The call of "ready about" split the air and the spanker boom swept overhead. It caught up sharply as the sheet tightened and the _Black Swan _heeled to port. Corin grabbed the sextant before it slid across the deck and out the scuppers.

"Do you think we'll be there soon?" Corin asked, coming back to sit next to Susan.

"Oh, probably." Susan said.

"I'm hungry," Corin said decisively.

"Oh Corin!"

~o*o~

"I believe we're here!" Corin reached up to pluck at Susan's sleeve from where she had fallen asleep in her chair.

"Are we?" Susan yawned and paused to take in her surroundings.

Tashbaan towered above them. Susan stared up at it, awestruck. The first thing that came to mind was the wedding cake Clyte had had at her wedding last year; the cake that rose, layer upon layer. Tashbaan blocked the sky and seemed one solid golden color, teeming with people moving ever upwards on the roads that entwined houses, mansions, palaces and at last, the golden dome of a temple glowing like the star on a tree. Many massive bridges spanned the width of the smooth river right and left of the rising city in giant arches so tall that the dhows were able to sail under them without trouble. The river banks were crowded with houses rising in tiers, expensive waterfront property bursting with wealth and life where Tarkaans had built their exotic summer houses. The sight nearly took Susan's breath away.

"I wonder who they are?"

Susan turned to see what Corin was pointing at.

"It's a customs' boat," Edmund explained and Susan realized for the first time that he was standing behind her, his hands on the back of her chair. Together they watched the small, heavily painted barge row laboriously towards them.

"They're going to scratch the paint," Edmund said accusingly.

But the sailors of the _Black Swan _had everything under control. They threw heavy rope fenders over the side and the custom's boat touched the _Black Swan_'s smooth side gently.

One of the sailors dropped a rope ladder overboard and a small, scrawny man with a wispy white beard came on board, followed by several bodyguards. After a few words exchanged with the captain they made their way aft to the quarter deck. They all knelt on the deck and touched their foreheads to the planks, then rose.

A crier unrolled an impressively fat scroll and began to read a long greeting the 'fair and noble royalty from beyond the sea'.

Finally, the harbormaster (The one with the wispy beard) bowed deeply to Edmund and pulled out a small sheet of paper, "Your Captain informs me that you would like to complete the questions?"

"I would." Edmund said.

"Very well," The harbormaster bowed again, "Name of vessel?"

"The _Black Swan_," Edmund replied.

"Tonnage of said vessel?"

"One thousand, five hundred and seventy-six."

"Length of said vessel?"

"One hundred and seventy-five feet."

"Rig and class of said vessel?"

"Square rigged, first class frigate."

"Owner of said vessel?"

"High King Peter the Magnificent, Queen Susan the Gentle, Queen Lucy the Valiant and King Edmund the Just of Narnia."

"Master of said vessel?"

"Lord Bruin."

"Number of souls aboard said vessel?"

"Three hundred and thirty two."

"Any infectious diseases on said vessel?"

"None."

"That is all, your majesty," the harbormaster said, bowing again. "You may either remain in your present anchorage in the outer harbor, or you may move into the more secure and private inner harbor."

"Thank you sir," Edmund said, "But I believe we will remain here."

"Your wish is my command," The harbormaster rose, bowed very deeply and departed backwards from the quarterdeck, pausing only to make sure he did not topple off backwards from the ladder.

"What a very odd person," Susan said thoughtfully. "Why don't we go into the inner harbor? Like he said it would be safer and things would be less likely stolen."

"Nothing will be stolen," Edmund said confidently. "The inner harbor is like a bottle with a narrow neck, I don't want to be trapped."

* * *

><p>"A message from Queen Lucy of Narnia, your majesty," the page bowed deeply as King Lune looked up, taking off his spectacles.<p>

"Eh, what's that? Oh yes, thank you," he took the communiqué offered him and looked down at the seal, a rose in red wax. "Thank you, you may go."

The page bowed again and departed.

Thoughtfully, King Lune broke the seal and, lips moving, read the message Queen Lucy had penned him in her own hand.

_Lune, King of Archenland, _

_Greetings,_

_I have some unfortunate news. Corin has stowed away on the Black Swan and is now on his way to Tashbaan. Due to the unfortunate shifting of the winds, it was impossible for my royal siblings to put in at an Archenlandish harbor. I do apologize for this unforeseen occurrence, but I promise he is in good hands, with both Susan and Edmund looking after him. _

_Most Respectfully Yours,_

_Lucy, Queen of Narnia_

King Lune chuckled, then chuckled again, "Ah well, I'm surprised the news was that mild. I was expecting him to have at least knocked down Cair Paravel by accident. Well, I'm going to give him a good thrashing the moment he gets back. I am still capable of knocking him down."

* * *

><p>AN: Sailing and riding; two of my many passions (though you've probably all ready gathered that:)

For clarity: A horizontal line means a complete change in location, while this symbol: (~o*o~) denotes a point later in time in the same general setting. There will be a lot of swinging back and forth between people hundreds of miles from each other. :) Hopefully it won't be too confusing, but I couldn't work it any other way.

~Psyche


	21. The Seventh Wonder

The Seventh Wonder

* * *

><p><em>There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million. <em>

~ Walt Streightiff

* * *

><p>The <em>Black Swan <em>rode quietly on her anchor, swinging with the rolling tide. Her sails were furled and stowed and the sailors washed down the decks, then holystoned and pitched them.

It was perhaps three hours after the harbormaster had departed that a great throng gathered on the wharves and the sound of trumpets echoed through the quiet air. Brightly painted barges embarked and rowed across the harbor, lying gently alongside the _Swan_, careful not to mar her smooth black paint.

Susan, Edmund, Corin and thirty others were brought with great pomp and ceremony onto the barges and were sat in velvet and satin chairs, heavily perfumed. They didn't know what to do with the talking animals, but Shard insisted in sitting in a chair. Then the slaves bent their backs to the oars and the barges moved back across the harbor. A blind bard sang them a song in a strange language, strumming a minor arpeggio on his harp at intervals.

When they landed on shore Edmund, Susan and Corin found themselves confronted by the prospect of a ride in the palanquin of an elephant. Brightly painted flowers spiraled up the trunk of the elephant, across its great ears and over its forehead. Edmund, Susan and Corin found the palanquin heavily scented, with an odd veil of bright gold disks hung on strings, which tinkled in the slightest breeze. The boy who steered the elephant sat on its neck, holding a long rod with a blade at the end.

The rest, including the talking animals, were put on litters (After some argument they decided to let Flavis walk). Then they were carried up the hill and across a bridge over the river, which looked like a Roman aqueduct leading to the gates of the city. They were huge, easily able to accommodate several elephants under its great intricately carved arches. The guards reined their small, fiery horses back and watched with wonder while the barbarian king and queen went by.

The procession moved slowly through the city, through the press of the crowd, through the streets. The buildings towered imposingly one either side; they were of beautiful and delicate architecture, intricate and golden, complex as lace in the shimmering air. Yet the beautiful façade gave way to a dark and sadness as the tall buildings opened to dirty side streets and beggars kneeling in the dust. Ahead of them always were the great domes of the Tisroc's palace, and beyond them, like a great shining pearl, the temple of Tash itself, with its golden dome rising like the sun.

"I can certainly see why Tashbaan is called one of the Seven Wonders of the World." Susan commented to her companions as the elephant swayed rhythmically beneath them.

The streets were filled with people. Shrouded women hastening to and fro with baskets balanced on their heads, men leading pack horses, Tarkaans on their great war horses and Tarkheenas in litters, slaves before and behind. There were shouts of criers, the bray of donkeys, the dull bellow of camels, the noble trumpeting of their own elephant.

They came to a quieter part of the city, a residential part, where both sides of the street were lined with white palaces. Very soon they turned under a lacy archway and found themselves in a cool hushed courtyard. Here, under the command of the boy, the elephant lowered itself to the ground and the litter bearers set their burdens down.

A man, a hunchback, well advanced in years, approached them and bowed.

"Welcome," he said, "I am Ahoshta, Grand Vizier of Calormen." He bowed again, "This palace has been provided for your comfort as long as you stay in Tashbaan." Again, he bowed, "Welcome."

Edmund glanced at Susan, then inclined his head to Ahoshta.

"Thank you for your generous hospitality."

~o*o~

Corin had been the last out of the palanquin. He had enjoyed his trip immensely and his imagination had run away with him, he had been any number of people he had seen. He had been a dirty faced boy, poor, but oh so free. He had been a crimson bearded Tarkaan, a man selling melons, a little lad with one leg, a camel driver, even the boy driving their own elephant.

Corin slid out of the palanquin to the ground, glad to be rid of the stiff, scented satin, velvet and silk. The elephant eyed him and flapped an ear, heavily caked with bright painted flowers. Corin reached out and scratched the rough, stiff haired skin in a place without paint. The elephant's trunk wondered over to him, touched his face and Corin received a blast of elephant breath. On impulse, Corin touched the smooth ivory tusks, tipped with gold and tassels, then looked around to see what the others were doing.

Ahoshta seemed to Corin a singularly uninteresting person, so he decided to explore on his own. It wasn't hard to get away without being noticed; just slipping around to the other side of the elephant hid him from view. Then all he had to do was decide where to go from there.

The courtyard was large, very large. There were palm trees, snow-white peacocks strutting about, those shy four horned deer called chital, with coats dappled like newborn fawns, tiny langur monkeys swinging on palm fronds and to the right a tall hedge, making within itself a smaller courtyard. Corin made his way there.

The hedge had been grown in such a way that it had its own arching gate of green. Corin walked under it into warm dappled light. Directly in front of him was a large cage fantastically wrought. Sitting inside of it was a large tiger.

Intrigued, Corin walked over to it and stared. He had seen plenty of _talking _tigers, but never a real live _wild _one in a cage. This was a new thing.

"How do you like being in there, old chap?" Corin asked.

The tiger yawned impressively, then turned so his tail was to Corin.

"Well be that way, then!" Corin exclaimed, "I was only trying to be friendly!"

The next cage over was even larger than the first, complete with a sunken pool. Corin stared through the bars for a moment before he saw the culprit. It was fat, shiny and almost adorable. It was lying in the middle of the pool and it flapped its tiny ears at Corin. It was in fact a pigmy hippopotamus; beside it was an even smaller, fatter and cuter version, which Corin assumed to be its baby.

Corin was certainly fascinated with the zoological garden. Most of the animals he had never seen in his life and stared long at them through the bars of their cages. Some seemed just as fascinated with him as he was with them, like the red panda, the macaws, the fennec, the mongoose and the macaque. Some just ignored him like the jerboa and the cobra.

In the very middle of the garden was the most fascinating thing of all. It was a very large, deep pool with a real live porpoise. It was a very little porpoise, only about five feet long, but it came right up to him and started chirping inquisitively. Corin patted its smooth wet head and it came closer to him, moving its tail back and forth in the water so strongly that it came most of the way out of the water.

Corin was startled by the quick sound of footsteps behind him. He turned to see a house slave, a mere girl, dressed in saffron. She bowed deeply.

"Your majesty, Prince Corin," She said, her voice barely above a whisper, "Her majesty Queen Susan wishes to see you as soon as is convenient."

"Oh, of course," Corin stood up, "Where is she?"

"If it pleases you, I will show you."

"Of course!"

"Your wish is my command."

"Well," Corin said, "If you'd rather not, then I can find her myself."

The slave girl looked startled and Corin grinned at her, which made her even more startled.

"All right, just show me where she is," Corin laughed.

The girl turned and led him out of the small green courtyard into the larger one. The palace was quite like a maze and Corin decided that he would explore it on the morrow. The girl came to a tall door and knocked. It was opened from the inside by a slave and Corin was ushered into the room.

It was a large room. One end of it was lined by tall wide windows, opening to a tremendous view of the river. The walls were a buff color and the trim was a little darker, the floor was paved with white and black octagons. There was a large octagonal pool with a fountain, lined with purple tiles, in the middle of the room. Palm trees in pots were in each corner of the room.

To the right Susan and Edmund sat at a low table on low stools.

"Food!" Corin exclaimed.

"Where were you, Corin!" Susan exclaimed, "Sometimes you have me so worried!"

"They have a zoological garden in the courtyard," Corin said simply, then pointed to small reddish things in a bowl on the table, "What are those?"

"I believe they are pickled onions," Edmund said.

"Trust you to know." Susan laughed.


	22. Glumkin

Glumkin

* * *

><p>"<em>It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily.<em>

"_So it is."_

"_And freezing."_

"_Is it?"_

"_Yes," said Eeyore. "However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately."_

~ A. A. Milne

* * *

><p>The wigwam did not float away in the night and Peter and Baeth did not die a painful death of eel stew. In fact Peter woke quite happily, though Baeth was a rather more grumpy animal after a mostly snore filled, sleepless night.<p>

"I dare say you didn't sleep a wink," Mudgloom noted when he saw them wake.

"We did!" Peter said, sitting up, then poking Baeth in the back. "Up! You're worse than my brother."

They got up and finished the rest of the eel stew; the marshwiggle seemed almost sad that they were able to eat it.

"Thank'ee much for your hospitality," Peter said. "We appreciated it highly."

"It'll sit badly with you, I shouldn't wonder," the wiggle added gloomily.

"We are travelling to the highlands, to Ettinsmoor." Peter continued, "I was wondering if you know anything of that place."

The marshwiggle waggled his head sadly, "Not I. We do have someone about who knows a bit I suppose. I'll go call."

They followed Mudgloom out of the wigwam. It was a certainly dreary day across the swamp. It was a large swamp, covered with cattails and bits of open water. Dotted very far apart were wigwams of different marshwiggles (they like privacy) and in the distance a bull moose stood up to his barrel, foraging in the muddy water.

"Muggle!" Mudgloom bellowed thinly, his hands to his mouth like a megaphone. A flock of teal took to the air in a throbbing mass. He waited about five seconds, then called again.

The teal began to descend again and the moose raised his great antlered head to look around majestically when a small figure appeared on a bank across a bit of open water.

"Mudgloom!" came the wailing reply.

"Muggle!" Mudgloom called again.

"Mudgloom!"

"Muggle! Send Glumkin!" Mudgloom called.

The tiny figure disappeared behind its wigwam and a moment later they heard a thin call of: "Glumkin!"

"What?" A loud entirely unmarshwiggle voice called in reply. "Go away!"

"Mudgloom wants you!" came Muggle's thin voice again.

"All right! Tell him I'm coming!"

Very slowly, Muggle appeared on the right side of his wigwam.

"Mudgloom!"

"Muggle!"

"He's coming!"

"He's coming; drown on the way over I shouldn't wonder," Mudgloom said in satisfaction, turning away and going into his wigwam. He appeared a moment later, a pipe clamped between his teeth and a fishing rod over his shoulder.

He folded his long legs up, baited his hook, lit his pipe and sat there philosophically, the thick, muddy, foul smelling smoke of his pipe welling over the bowl and pouring down into a dark cloud on the oily water.

Peter watched the moose as it slowly waded, lifting each hoof high, out of the swamp and browsed into the woods. Just before it disappeared, he caught sight of a small dumpy figure in a little boat moving rapidly across the open water in the middle of the swamp. It plied its paddle with determination and energy, both of which marshwiggles lack. The conclusion was obvious, it was not a marshwiggle.

As the figure neared, they were able to see that it was a black dwarf. His hat was crammed decisively down on his head and his nose was rather large and lumpy. His hands were as large as a man's (as most dwarf hands are, except for the women) and he was very solid.

Peter pulled the bow of the boat up on the bank and the dwarf stepped in a stately manner from it. Then he shoved his hands into his pockets firmly and turned to Mudgloom.

"So what'd ye want?" the dwarf asked.

Mudgloom stared at him for a moment, the smoke trickling lackadaisically from his pipe.

"Glumkin, these two humans are traveling to Ettinsmoor and they want directions," Mudgloom sighed. "They _would_ get lost."

"Ettinsmoor, eh?" the dwarf looked up at Peter. "Where are ye bound?"

"We're looking for a green chapel." Peter said.

"Nothing else? Is it close to anywhere?" Glumkin asked.

"Not as far as I know, all I was told was that it was green." Peter said calmly.

"Heah." Glumkin shoved his hands more firmly into his pockets. "When are ye leaving?"

"As soon as possible," Peter said, shrugging.

"What are ye called?"

"This," Peter bowed with ceremony and turned to Baeth, "Is Lord Baeth of Narnia, brother of Lord Peridan."

Glumkin nodded in recognition.

"And I," Peter said, "Am Sir Gavin, a knight of Narnia."

"Heah," Glumkin said, "Do you have horses?"

"Yes, ours, an extra and a packhorse."

The Dwarf nodded, "Just wait until I get mine, then we can leave."

And before anyone could say anything the Dwarf had pushed off his boat and was paddling violently in the other direction.

They watched him until he disappeared around a point of land, then Mudgloom want back to fishing. Baeth dropped cross-legged in the damp grass before the wigwam. Peter crossed his arms, leaned back contemplatively and squinted into the rather misty, cloud covered sun.

Glumkin certainly didn't take long and they saw the boat shoot into the open and turn towards them. A fat pony stood amidships and Glumkin sat in the stern while the whole bow, nearly to her waist, stood out of the water like a speedboat.

Again, Peter, with Baeth's help, pulled the bow up on the bank.

The pony's head hung in a sorry manner and each of its legs stuck out from its four corners like pins. It was a fine, strong pinto, no more than twelve hands with a Mohawk mane. It obviously didn't like the medium of transportation its master chose for it.

With a gentle voice, Glumkin coaxed it to step from its precarious position. But, the pony was a professional and didn't even rock the boat.

"So you're coming with us?" Peter asked.

"Of course!" Glumkin said, turning to stare at him incredulously. "If I stay in this mud pit another year I'll kick the bucket!"

"I shouldn't wonder," Mudgloom muttered almost happily.

Peter ticked Baeth on the shoulder, "Come along then, lad. Let's get the horses."

* * *

><p>AN: Ghostwriter71 brought up the very interesting fact that 'Ettin' is from Old English "eoten" meaning 'giant', a word cognate with the 'Jötunn' giants of Norse mythology. And here I thought Lewis was just making up words...:)

~Psyche


	23. The Tisroc

The Tisroc

* * *

><p><em>(May-he-live-forever)<em>

_~ C. S. Lewis_

* * *

><p>Corin woke. He rolled out of bed and went to the window. The city glowed red in the predawn light, disembodied minarets and towers rising like shadows out of the golden mist and he was again taken with the sheer beauty of it. From the sunswept balconies of the tallest towers, the eerie prayers of the priests echoed over the city like the calls of some strange bird. Corin felt a shiver go down his spine as he heard it. The edge of the sun was beginning to show, shimmering on the distant horizon, layered in the depth of the heat.<p>

Corin turned from the window as he heard footsteps in the hallway. The door opened and Susan looked into the room.

"Oh good," she said, "You're awake. They're bringing up your breakfast presently, then you must get dressed quickly. The Tisroc has sent us an invitation and we will be leaving as soon as possible."

"Will Rabadash be there?" Corin asked.

"I imagine so," Susan said. "Oh, here is your breakfast. Don't eat quickly, dear, or you'll get a stomachache."

~o*o~

Mr. Tumnus came in to help Corin dress. He knew, like everybody else, that if the prince were left to his own devices he would show up in front on the Tisroc in his oldest clothes, but he had been quite surprised to find that despite Corin's stowing away, Corin had packed very carefully.

"I'm not a complete dunce," Corin had said. "I did think about it very _carefully_ before I came."

"Not carefully enough," Edmund said, coming to sit on the windowsill, to look out over the span of glowing city below. "You should _not _have come at all."

The Tashbaan paper had come in and Corin read it between eating and Mr. Tumnus rummaging loudly through his clothes. Edmund departed and half an hour later returned, Susan sweeping behind him. They found Corin standing in the middle of the room with a rather unhappy look on his face while Mr. Tumnus plied the lint brush.

"You look very well, Corin!" Susan exclaimed.

"So do you." Corin said forlornly. "You look stunninger than usual."

"You really think so?" Susan asked, swirling in a circle, the dark purple silk of her skirt swinging out like a hibiscus. "I wasn't quite sure about the paisley. But I think it's all right. The Paisley pattern did originate in Calormen."

"That's paisley?" Edmund asked, his forehead furrowing. "I thought it got rained on and the dye ran."

Susan turned to look at him, then burst out laughing.

"I thought they were pears," Corin remarked.

~o*o~

They, and choice persons of their party, were carried to the Tisroc's palace on litters.

They entered the great gates of the palace and were carried through a wide, shadowed courtyard. Someone stood in a window high above them and watched them pass, craning his neck until he could see them no more. He turned from the window, his face a picture of grief.

~o*o~

The introduction to the Tisroc took about an hour. He did not greet them in his throne room, but in a lesser room. His tarkaans stood around them, some of them the Narnians recognized. The Tisroc himself sat in the middle of the room on a low couch, smoking his Hookah, a tall sort of glass water pipe. The sound of him bubbling on it bothered Edmund immensely.

The Tisroc was dressed in yellow, encrusted with gems, with a tall purple turban covered with silver trinkets. He was immensely fat and his pudgy hands and feet reminded Corin a great deal of a camel's. He even had a drooping face and heavy eyelids, like a camel. He made a great show of being glad to see them, even signaling two of his tarkaans to hoist him to his feet. He kissed Susan's hand with great reverence, bowed to Edmund, then returned to his low couch and Hookah.

His voice was high and nasally, like a camel's, and he spoke a good deal, not so much to them, but more for the joy of hearing his own voice.

They left later that morning with an invitation to a banquet the next day.

~o*o~

They departed from the palace again and returned to their own place.

"I found the Tisroc very agreeable." Susan said as they at lunch, kneeling on velvet cushions at a low table in a tiled terrace, shaded by palms.

"Don't let looks deceive you, sister," Edmund said. "He is one of the cruelest men who ever tread the earth."

"Oh, surely he is not so very bad!" Susan exclaimed. "He can't be so very bad. No one can be entirely bad."

"There I disagree with you, Susan," Edmund said. "I have met so many completely bad people that I have concluded that there are no good people in the world. Except perhaps your lovely self."

"Don't be silly, Edmund."

Edmund shrugged and winked at her.

Corin was too busy looking out over the blueness of the glittering harbor to notice any of the last conversation. He was often like that. Susan called it selective hearing, Edmund called it irritating.

"I think he could have at least been there," Corin muttered to himself, watching while tiny specs of sailors crawled around their own ship,_ Black Swan_, as she lay at rest, swinging around her anchor in the tide.

"Who?" Edmund asked, but he knew whom.

"Rabadash," Corin said.

"Perhaps he wasn't invited," Susan said.

"Well he could at least visit here," Corin said.

"Give him time, Corin," Susan said. "It's only eleven."

A servant girl came out on the terrace, carrying a bowl of pistachios. For another fifteen minutes Susan, Edmund and Corin were busy cracking nuts. It was during that time that a knock came at the door and a slave came in backwards and bowed to the floor. Rabadash strode after them. He bowed low and the three rose from the table and bowed also.

He certainly was Rabadash still. He was quite serious when he had come onto the terrace, but when he saw Susan that same infectious smile that they all knew so well came across his face.

"Fairest Queen Susan! The delight of my eyes!" he exclaimed. "The world has been dark in my eyes since I last saw you!"

"It is truly lovely to see you again, Rabadash," Susan said.

Rabadash bowed again and smiled.

"But look," he said, "Dear queen, I have brought you a present."

He turned to the door and in quite a different voice, barked out orders to a slave.

"Her name is Saba," he said, looking back at Susan. "I pray you like her."

A moment later a slave came through the door, followed by a small golden shadow. Susan, with a cry of delight, knelt down, holding out her hand. The shadow slipped from behind the slave, turned into a lovely lioness and went straight for her, purring with delight, and rubbing her head down Susan's arm and shoulder.

Her fingers lost in the golden fur, Susan raised a face shining with delight to Rabadash, "she is beautiful!"

"My pleasure surpasses all!" Rabadash exclaimed. "I am delighted that thou should be so charmed by my lowly present!"

He stayed for about fifteen minutes longer, talking in great length about the beauties of Tashbaan and how they should see them all before they visit was through.

"And now," Rabadash said, bowing again, "I have taken far too much of your time, I must return to my father the Tisroc (may he live forever). I bid you adieu."

With that, he left the room.

~o*o~

"Why on earth did he use so many big words?" Corin asked the moment Rabadash left the room.

Edmund shrugged and went to look out the window and Susan laughed because Saba had put both paws around her neck in an embrace.

~o*o~

"How did it go?"

Rabadash turned to glare at the person who had spoken. "I think it went very well," he said loftily. "I _won't_ have you telling me what to do."

"Did she like the lioness?"

"She did. Now leave me alone."

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Unfortunately, I failed to clarify something that was mentioned in the prequel of this story, <em>The Enchanted Isle<em>, so here goes:

The name Gavin is French for Gawain. For those of you who are not into classical literature, Gawain was King Arthur's greatest knight (forget Lancelot), and the hero of _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_. In my imaginings, Peter's middle name is Gavin, as was his father's …a family name. And the reason why it's a family name is…you guessed it! They're French.

Pevensie is not an English surname. The only people who have it as a last name are Lewis' characters. There is, however, a town in East Sussex named Pevensey, which also happens to be where William the Conqueror made landfall in 1066.

My theory: Gavin, ancestor of Peter, came ashore with William at Pevensey and took the name of the place (altering it a bit to make it more French).

Peter is going around calling himself Sir Gavin, Knight of Narnia, because he doesn't want to be hindered in his travels and he's always wanting to get to know his people. Peter strikes me as the type who's always out to see how everything is going in his kingdom for himself. Once the average Joe has gotten done bowing and scraping after Peter's announced himself "High King Peter the Magnificent," Peter won't have much luck getting to know him.

The best way to get to know your people is to be one of them.


	24. Ettinsmoor

Ettinsmoor

* * *

><p><em>My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,<em>

_My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer -_

_A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe;_

_My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go._

~ Robert Burns

* * *

><p>Baeth was actually glad to get going again. The rain of yesterday had washed the world clean and the heavens were as clear as blue glass. Cyan seemed to enjoy it too; there were no hard roads where they were going, just soft ground, wind and sky.<p>

Baeth had been put in charge of Shenandoah, the packhorse, and it was his job to snub the horse's lead rope to his saddle and make sure Shenandoah followed and did not decide to graze instead. Baeth looked back often, seeing the black feathers on Shenandoah's fetlocks blowing in the wind, his tail curling around his flank and his dark wise eyes following every motion Baeth made.

They gradually left the swamps behind and with them the smell of rotting weeds. The wind was cool, but not sharp, bringing with it the smell of long golden grass, waving in the sun.

"See those hills over there?" Glumkin asked, pointing to some misty purple things. "Those are in Ettinsmoor, we'll be in Ettinsmoor after we cross the River Shribble."

"What kind of river is the Shribble?" Peter asked. "We always passed into Ettinsmoor farther west.

"Nothing terrible I suppose," Glumkin said, spartanly.

It _was_ nothing terrible. There was a fine stone bridge spanning it.

They rode another few miles that afternoon, then camped that night under the shelter of an overhanging rock.

Glumkin made a fire; starting with a bit of dried grass in the middle, then making a little wigwam around it of twigs and sticks, he lit the grass with a flint and steel from his tinder box. The flame fluttered, then grew, flickering upwards, melded with a spiral of heat, welcome in the coolness of evening.

Peter, who had unsaddled the horses, went to dig some rations out of Shenandoah's pack. He dug around until he found a ham- Eustace did know how to pack rations-

Peter fried some ham, then mixed batter in a bowl and fried it in the skillet after the ham. Then they all sat down and ate. Baeth decided that the High King wasn't half bad as a cook.

"So," Peter said, leaning back, "Glumkin, have you any idea which way we should go after this?"

"Well," Glumkin said thoughtfully, "It sticks in my mind that I've heard of a Green Chapel, north, far north, even into giant's country, I ken. That's a couple hundred mile."

"Well," Peter said, "We'll keep going north till we find it."

Peter turned to his saddlebags and fished around for his compass, but his fingers touched something hard and coarse, like the cover of a book. He pulled it out.

_Shakespeare's Sonnets_ he read. Shakespeare's Sonnets? He certainly hadn't put that in there. He opened it and saw that something had been written on the back of the front cover. The hand was very good, but it was rather blotched.

_To Lucasta, on going to the wars_

_TELL me not Sweet I am unkind,_

_That from the Nunnery_

_Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind,_

_To War and Armes I fly._

_True; a new Mistresse now I chase_

_The first Foe in the Field_

_And with a stronger Faith imbrace_

_A Sword, a Horse, a Shield._

_Yet this Inconstancy is such,_

_As you too shall adore_

_I could not love thee Dear so much,_

_Loved I not honor more._

~R. Lovelace

Wonderingly, Peter turned to a place marked by a green ribbon. Sonnet 116. Involuntarily, his hand went up to toy with the chain around his neck and the ring strung on it. How this book could possibly have found its way into his saddlebag was beyond-

"What are you looking at, Sire?" Baeth interrupted Peter's thoughts.

Peter dropped the chain back down his shirt and opened his mouth to speak.

"Sire?" Glumkin exclaimed, looked hard at Peter, "Are you the king?"

"Um-" Peter began.

"The High King?" Glumkin asked.

"I'm afraid so," Peter said at last. "I suppose I really couldn't keep it a secret."

He slid the book of sonnets back into his saddlebag.

* * *

><p>It was relieving when they heard from the caravan master that their journey would be drawing to a close. The night they heard, Shasta and Aravis went to whisper with Bree and Hwin where they were hobbled with the other horses, just out of the circle of light cast by the campfire.<p>

"Very good," Bree said. "The caravan will get us through the gates of the city. The main trouble will be getting back out of the city at the other end."

"You think we'll have trouble?" Hwin asked worriedly.

"Well, you can't be sure." Bree said, paused for a moment, then looked at them, "Whenever I and my Tarkaan ever left Tashbaan he had a passport, I hardly know if you two humans need one."

Aravis looked down at the ground. "My brother always needed one too."

"But perhaps we won't," Shasta said. "We'll only be two peasants; we could slip out with the crowd."

"Perhaps," Bree said.

"Is there any way we could get across the river without entering Tashbaan?" Hwin suggested nervously.

"Hardly madam," Bree said with authority. "There are villas, gardens and summer houses up and down both sides of the river. We'd never get by without being seen. Aravis could easily be recognized, even I could be. I believe the best thing would be going right through the city. If you want to be hidden don't try to hide."

"I suppose." Hwin said, then her head snapped up. "Could we swim across the river?"

Bree laughed, "Nay madam, to begin with, it's a mile wide near Tashbaan and there is shipping everywhere."

"Of course you're right." Hwin said, "I hadn't thought of that."

"Well, no matter how we go, we may be separated. Anything can happen in a city like that. In war one must always expect the unexpected, so should we." Bree continued, "I advise a rendezvous point if something of a calamitous nature should indeed occur."

"Where's that?" Shasta asked.

"The Tomb of the Ancient Kings," Bree said, stamping the ground, "is a perfectly good place. It was built by the people from before the Calormens, so the Calormens think the place is haunted. No one goes near it except to make sacrifices. We shan't be seen there. It is located a mile away from the north gates of Tashbaan, in a great valley, you can't miss it. It is something like a huge temple carved into the rock."

"Well," Shasta said, "I'm certainly not afraid of ghouls."

"Neither am I," Aravis said stoutly.

Hwin raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

* * *

><p>AN: Now horses _do_ have eyebrows, but I don't know if they can exactly raise _one_, as I've never seen them both at once. Hwin _is_ a talking horse...

~Psyche

The last chapter I posted registered two hits...yet I got five reviews. Anyone else having trouble with their story stats? I normally get almost fifty hits, so either you've all lost interest and have gone away, or something fishy is going on...


	25. The Jewels of Tashbaan

The Jewels of Tashbaan

* * *

><p><em>Adversity is the diamond dust Heaven polishes its jewels with. <em>

~ Thomas Carlyle

* * *

><p>The next morning, they returned to the Tisroc's palace. The hall of the banquet was the hall of black marble. Huge black marble columns supported the roof; tall windows and chandlers hanging from the ceiling lit up the place and a whole side of the hall opened out onto a garden. The Tisroc, because he was a god, ate by himself high on a dais. A level below him sat his sons; the thirty Narnians were seated with them. Below them sat the Tisroc's many wives and below them in the main part of the hall sat many Tarkaans and Tarkheenahs.<p>

Most of the Calormens had never seen creatures like Flavis or Mr. Tumnus, and talking beasts like Shard and Loki completely unnerved them, especially since sixty percent of the Narnian party was talking beasts or dwarfs. Edmund, especially, was aware of the remarks being made about the Narnians; they respected Flavis, but Mr. Tumnus was constantly the butt of their remarks.

The first course of the banquet started with a thin soup with lentils and cracked wheat and was followed with yogurt, fruit, different kinds of pastries and pasta and vegetable dishes.

Corin thought that the food was wonderful, but he noticed that Edmund ate little and watched the crowd with a wary eye.

"What's wrong?" Corin whispered to him.

"Everything…" Edmund paused. "I'm sorry; I should be enjoying it, shouldn't I?"

After that, Edmund appeared to be the picture of happiness.

While they ate, bards and storytellers told stories and sang and musicians played instruments, but what struck Corin the most was how unfriendly the Calormens were. They were reserved, distant; they watched the Narnians with hooded eyes.

Rabadash spoke a little with Susan, but the extent of his conversation was about the food, then he stretched his imagination a little father and asked about their trip.

"Are you enjoying your stay so far?" Rabadash asked.

"I always enjoy coming to a new place," Susan said. "I'm afraid I'm a little frightened of the place."

"Frightened? Dear lady, there is little need to be frightened!" Rabadash stared at her for a moment, then laughed and Susan, though she didn't admit it to herself, thought it a rather cold laugh. For a moment she almost felt trapped, the tall black columns she had thought so beautiful a moment before seemed dark and oppressive. Then she saw Edmund's happy face and she forgot her fears and ate another bite of baklava.

It was about noon when everyone rose and was ushered outside. The hall of black marble itself connected with the garden and they found, as they came out into the sunlight, that it was actually _under_ the garden. And Oh! What a garden it was!

The garden was about two hundred feet long by two hundred feet wide and built up in tiers so that it resembled a theatre or pyramid. Great columns had been constructed under the ascending terraces which carried the weight of the garden; the roof on the uppermost columns was the highest part of the garden and soared high above the city walls.

Each tier of the garden was heaped with enough earth to allow the biggest trees to take root and not just large ones, but beautiful flowering ones and tall dramatic ones. The ascent to the uppermost terrace-roofs was made by stairways; and alongside these stairs there were screws, through which the water was continually conducted up into the garden from the river far below.

Every kind of plant and flower seemed to be planted there. The scent was heavenly and the many colors and hues almost dazzled the eyes. Many animals roamed the garden. There were little deer, white spotted still; there were cats, like servils, ocelots and tree leopards, sunning themselves on the terraces, and there were many birds, adding their voices to the beauty of the garden.

"Oh Edmund!" Susan breathed, "How I wish Lucy were here! How she would love this!"

"It certainly is very beautiful," Edmund said. "I say, look at that flower over there! Isn't that a hibiscus? I haven't seen one since England."

"When did you see a hibiscus in England?" Susan laughed, "They don't grow there!"

"Remember?" Edmund asked, "Aunt Alberta always had one potted on her windowsill."

So the Narnians walked the garden saying things like, "I say, what a lovely bird!" or, "My goodness, watch out for the little deer!"

"Chital, actually," Edmund said. "That's what they're called."

"They look like deer to me." Susan protested.

"I wonder who invented the screws," Corin said, "You know, the giant ones, bringing up the water."

"Archimedes." Edmund muttered to himself, but Corin didn't hear him, then added. "Probably King Frank, though I don't know how learnéd he was."

"What exactly are they, anyway?" Corin asked, "Father uses them to bring water up to the kitchen at Anvard, but I never could figure out how they work."

"Did you ever ask?" Edmund asked.

Corin grinned.

"Essentially, it's a screw inside a hollow pipe, as the screw turns; it brings water up the pipe and dumps it out in a conduit," Edmund said, "These ones are probably turned by a water wheel down by the river…or perhaps a pair of oxen or horses somewhere."

"Slaves, actually," Rabadash interrupted, "Horses are too valuable to waste on that sort of thing. How do you like my father's garden?"

"It is a beautiful garden," Susan said, then wondered off by herself to sit down somewhere. The thought of humans turning those huge screws was almost too much for her. To her vexation, Rabadash followed, rattling on about how his father had planted a tree when he, Rabadash, was born.

And Susan, when she finally understood what he was saying, realized that she was sitting under it.

"It's a lovely tree," Susan said lamely. Another, worse thought came to her, how many people had died, building this place?

That afternoon, when they returned to their own place, Susan went to her room and closed the door; she had a headache. Only when she heard Saba yowling at her door, did she come out again and seem quite herself.

~o*o~

The next day, the Narnians were taken to view the temple of Tash. Only Edmund, Susan and Corin were allowed in. Lord Peridan and Flavis exchanged looks; they hardly wanted to lose sight of their monarchs.

The Narnians refused to remove their shoes before entering and dark looks were passed all around. Finally someone came up with an idea, and they were carried in on litters by barefoot slaves.

The Temple of Tash consisted of several domes; four smaller ones circled about a greater one. The largest one was plated with gold and the four smaller with platinum; they burned unbearably bright in the sun. Four minarets at each corner stood away from it at some distance. A long reflecting pool led up to the front of the temple, mirroring the depth of the sky and the white lace of the temple's façade.

The inside of the temple was beyond description. Inside the great dome was most spectacular of all. Slender columns supported it and carvings as delicate as lace covered it. It was brilliantly painted with gold and red and green.

At the far end of the temple stood an alter and behind it was a statue, of solid gold. The Narnians stared at it transfixed. It was perhaps the weirdest thing they ever saw in Tashbaan. It was shaped roughly like a man, but it could hardly be called one. Its head was like that of a raptor, with a long, cruelly curving beak. Its eyes sparked red and they realized that they were huge rubies. The statue had four arms sprouting from its shoulders and at the end of those arms were curved, ugly claws.

"That," Rabadash said from where he stood next to Susan's litter, "Is the god Tash, look on him well, is he not beautiful?"

And Susan looked back at the statue and stared with wide eyes. She saw only what was evil and ugly, nothing beautiful. Her memory whirled and she remembered a time when she had wept beside Aslan as he lay dead and she had seen something like this, streaming away into the darkness of the woods. She shivered. Edmund caught her eye, but she couldn't read his look. She glanced at Corin staring open-mouthed and wished that somehow he had never seen such an evil thing.

"The workmanship is very good," Susan managed.


	26. The Smell of War

The Smell of War

* * *

><p><em>Reality bites... and doesn't let go. <em>

~Anonymous

* * *

><p>"Your majesty?"<p>

"Your majesty!"

The voice was persistent and the hand plucking at her shoulder, firm.

Lucy opened an eye and looked up. It was Eva, in her dressing gown, wisps of hair flying loose of her red braid leaning over her, a flickering candle in her hand.

"What is it?" Lucy whispered, half sitting up. "It must be the middle of the night!"

"It's Lord Eustace," Eva hissed. "Something terrible has happened and he wants to see you at once!"

"What?" Lucy sat up, staring at Eva.

"I don't know what," Eva said softly.

~o*o~

Eva was still drawing Lucy's laces tight when the latter ran from the room. She was worried, most certainly, and almost angry that anything bad dared happen while all the others were away.

It was when she reached her study that she knew that something was dreadfully wrong. All the generals presently at Cair Paravel stood around, their faces drawn and solemn in the firelight. Eustace stepped forward, bowed and kissed her hand.

"Your Majesty," he said slowly.

"What has happened, Eustace?" Lucy asked quickly.

He sighed, then looked down at her, "Telmar has invaded Narnia's western border."

"Telmar?" Lucy's eyes went wide. "There is a Telmarine army on Narnian soil?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Lucy cried.

"They seem to think that a good chunk of the Fife of Yngleswood is rightfully theirs," Eustace said, "You remember the big uproar about it earlier when the ambassadors of Telmar came?"

"Of course," Lucy said.

"They ask that we give up the Fife of Yngleswood and they'll stop fighting."

"Never!" Lucy declared.

"I quite agree." Eustace said.

~o*o~

"I want Martin contacted immediately," Lucy said. "He's at his Citadel in the south; he has part of the army with him."

She felt odd sitting in the High King's study in the High King's great high backed chair, large enough to accommodate several Lucys. For once, _she _had to be High King, and it was daunting in the least.

"How many of them are there, Eustace?" Lucy looked up at him, standing on the other side of the High King's great oak desk.

"Many," Eustace said, "We don't really know, but we guess them to be several thousand strong, with more coming."

"Our army is hardly big enough for that!" Lucy exclaimed, "The White Witch nearly wiped them out fourteen years ago and they are awfully slow at coming back."

"We'll do somehow," Eustace said slowly.

* * *

><p>They traversed across Ettinsmoor for many days, living chiefly on moorfowl and the occasional deer that Peter shot with his bow. He was a crack shot and hit most everything he aimed at. He gave Baeth lessons on his great longbow. It was of the finest quality, stiff and strong, looking like molten honey in the sun. Baeth could see the differing grain of the many woods that made up the bow, each strip of wood to counter the other.<p>

"My sister, Lucy, made it for me," Peter had said, "There is no one in Narnia who can match her craftsmanship. Look Baeth, don't try to draw it, you'll strain a muscle. _Lean_ into it."

The lowlands of Ettinsmoor were beautiful, wild, but somehow lonely. There were great plains of waving, golden grass and small lonely forests. Wild ponies, shaggy and dreadlocked by the wind roamed free with the cattle and sheep of the people who lived in small stone houses or in the tiny villages.

Though they were growing rare, they met a few dragons on their way, but they were mostly shy quiet things, which stayed well out of the travelers' way. Only one, a different kind of dragon, challenged them, but when Peter drew his flashing sword he lost heart and decided to find more easily caught pray.

The second night, they stayed at the castle of a horse laird, the laird of Dalwhinnie, who held a banquet in their honor. The four monarchs had come about four years ago in a tour of Ettinsmoor and he was delighted to see Peter. He knew nothing about a green chapel in Ettinsmoor, but only suggested that they continue north. "There are many strange things in the north; it is the likeliest place to find such a thing."

As they traveled, Peter taught Baeth many things about the wild, windswept plains over which they passed. At first they had seemed lonely and silent, but as Baeth listened, he heard the call of the moor birds and dismounted while Peter showed him the spoor of many animals imprinted on the tawny ground; the light sharp prints of deer, the tiny barefoot tracks of the skunk, the feathery light tracks of mice and squirrels and the larger, ponderous, pigeon toed marks of the bear. They were no longer alone, Baeth saw; as Peter spoke, he saw the shinning eyes of little animals as they slipped unseen down the meandering paths made by the mountain sheep as they traveled to the summer grazing lands.

As they went, Baeth learned to tell the time and direction by the stars and moon, he learned the best way to build a fire, how to cook with only a few hot stones for pots and pans and the wild herbs and spices that grew beneath the overhanging rocks. Peter seemed to be a bottomless well of knowledge and Baeth eagerly tapped in to learn all he could.

* * *

><p>Martin arrived that afternoon with an army. Just seeing them encamped outside of Paravel thrilled Lucy with hope. A frenzy of work was going on inside of Cair Paravel herself and it was dawn the next morning that they rode west. Lord Paladin, the uncle of Lord Peridan, Clyte and Baeth, remained behind with a skeleton army to guard the Cair.<p>

Lucy took Ashquar, the little stallion Edmund nearly killed the day the serpent bit her. Rabadash had given him to her.

"In Calormen we never give horses away, they are like brothers to us, valued more than gold or silver." Rabadash had said, "I love my stallion, but I believe he would be happiest here with you."

Under Lucy's care, Ashquar recovered beautifully, though he would never run as he used to. He was a good horse, kind, willing and full of spirit.

The army progressed like a slow serpent in the early summer heat. The horses whisked at flies, the men wiped their brows, half-wondering where they were going, what they were up against.

Some of them had never seen war and the thought was a tingle of excitement, but most were older and the war fourteen years ago was sharp as a knife blade in their minds.

So they walked and wondered, fingering the hafts of their swords.

~o*o~

They camped that night on a ridge to the south of Yngleswood forest and the next morning messengers from the enemy camp approached them with green branches and their flag, a white horse on a green ground.

Lucy met them in a tent; she looked very grown up, her golden hair swept into a knot at the back of her neck, her bow upon her back. Eustace and Martin stood behind her.

The envoys were big men, fair-haired and decked with fur. They bowed to her.

"Dear lady," The oldest man said, "I am honored to meet you."

"I'm afraid the feeling is not mutual," Lucy said quietly and caught at a quill pen nervously.

The man leaned back and eyed her thoughtfully, then drew a piece of paper from her doublet.

"Here are our terms for peace," he said and put the paper down on the table before her.

Lucy pulled at it and scanned the first page. Almost unconsciously, she slowly tore the page from top to bottom, then folded it over and tore it again.

"I will never accept such terms." She said icily, "Narnia will never surrender. Leave me before I shoot you both through the heads."

Two armed centaurs escorted the envoys from the tent.

Lucy sat, staring at the ground and tearing the paper into smaller and smaller pieces, finally she dropped them, watching them flutter to the ground. At last she stood and walked out of the tent.

Eustace watched her go, half wondering if he should follow her. He stood for a moment in indecision, then strode out of the tent.

She had mounted her horse and was riding away towards a smooth green hill to the south of the encamped army. He watched her dismount and turn Ashquar loose to graze.

No, he would not follow her, not just yet.

~o*o~

It wasn't until half an hour later that Eustace mounted his horse and galloped to the hill to see how Lucy fared.

She was stretched out on her back in the buttercups staring at the sky, her face glowing like sunshine on a stormy day.

"What are you thinking, Lucy?" Eustace asked.

"I was just thinking, that if I had to die it would be on a day like this," Lucy said, "It's so beautiful."

"Don't be silly!" Eustace exclaimed, "You won't _die_, Lucy!"

* * *

><p>AN: Would you believe Dalwhinnie is a real town? It's in Scotland and I ran across it one day in my virtual globe trotting on Google Earth. I thought, "my goodness, what a name!"

~Psyche

As a side note: Psyche is sick at present, so I'm doing the posting...Psyche wants to be the one to respond to your reviews. She'll be up and at 'em pretty soon, so don't touch that dial! (I hope somebody gets that...we're kind of old-fashioned and we still listen to radio programs :).

~ Rose


	27. And The Crash of Steel

And The Crash of Steel

* * *

><p><em>When you are in any contest, you should work as if there were - to the very last minute - a chance to lose it. <em>

~ Dwight D. Eisenhower

* * *

><p>The next morning, as the sun rose and the mist burned away, the Narnian army advanced. They met the enemy line in a little valley, surrounded on all sides by thick woods, sunlight looking down on cold steel, and white, silent faces, braced for the storm.<p>

Lucy, mounted on her horse next to Eustace, saw with horror how large the enemy was; it was like a grinding force, marching onwards to crush the Narnians like a giant iron machine. A train engine, wheels grinding, almost enveloped with steam, crashed into her memory, eye gleaming red like the sun above them. She felt completely lost, she knew nothing of battles or armies, even Eustace felt slightly like he was drowning and Martin knew well that with the few men they had they would have a small chance of success.

Then Lucy gave the word and the Narnian archers leaned into their long bows and let fly, hundreds of arrows leaping into the air like a swarm of angry bees. Below them, the Telmarines formed turtles with their shields, bracing against the massive impact of long bow arrows embedding deep into the wood. Again and again the Narnians fired volleys, the sky dark with the whistling arrows.

Then the cavalry leaped forward, the riders' short spears locked against their bodies, their horses' manes streaming in the cool, shout filled air. The line of horses formed a wedge, a wedge that crashed into the main line of Telmarines with colossal force. Lucy watched swords flash and horses rear as the cavalry attempted to slice the Telmarine line in half.

It almost worked.

"They're bringing reinforcements," Eustace muttered grimly as his horse pranced nervously beneath him.

Lucy watched while the cavalry was stopped dead by lance men approaching from the rear. Her call for reinforcements did nothing but muddle matters even more. The surging whinnying mass was bloody chaos below them.

Lucy sat on her horse, Ashquar, silhouetted on the edge of the hill, her heart sinking within her. There was nothing she could do but watch and wonder if Narnia would be no more.

"Oh Aslan!" She whispered, "If you ever loved us, save us now!"

And as she sat watching, her heart twisting inside her, she saw it. It was very slow; the Narnians noticed it first, somehow, beyond the noise and heat of battle. It was a thin mist, spiraling through the trees, pouring down into the battlefield like a white river. It grew thicker, twining around legs and separating the attacked from the attacker. Cool, with gentle fingers rustling their hair and sweat jeweled faces and drawing them apart.

~o*o~

The tent flap opened bringing in Eustace wrapped in a cloak of mist, he still wore armor and his familiar helmet topped with two curving bull's horns. He stood for a moment and saw Lucy standing in the middle of the tent, her eyes full of pain.

"That fog was a godsend," Eustace said, "Your army is coming back, they're in the camp now, more than I thought possible."

Lucy dropped in a chair and stared up at Eustace, then she got up and threw her arms around him, crying. And Eustace stopped being a loyal subject, but became an older cousin, who loved this little girl. He stroked her hair and told her everything would be all right.

"I'll not pretend to be Peter," he said gently, "He was born a leader of men, a king. I'm just plain old Eustace. But I think between the both of us, we'll come up with something.

"With Aslan's help," Lucy said, fiercely rubbing away her tears.

"With Aslan's help," Eustace agreed.

~o*o~

When the fog finally lifted from the Telmarine army, the Narnians had vanished. A whisper went through the army, it was a curse, they said a curse from their gods. The fog had to be supernatural, there was no other way.

They sat around, angry and wondering. Reinforcements came and the moral rose a little. But it would not have long to rise.

* * *

><p>The fourth day of travel was marked especially well in Baeth's mind. It was a time when the wind blew and light rain drenched them all day. They continued on, miserable. The horses plodding obediently through the long grass that turned silver in the grey light.<p>

It was about noon that Mystic threw a shoe and Peter dismounted and went back to find it. After casting through the grass, he held it up triumphant.

"I'll have to take the rest of his shoes off," Peter said, returning and sliding the shoe in his pocket. "He'll do well barefoot in this soft footing."

"Must you?" Baeth asked. Far in the distance, he saw a farmhouse and the thought of a warm fire called to him.

"Of course," Peter said, "You can't ask a horse to go on three shoes. Haven't you ever heard the old nursery chant? _For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe the horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the want of a horseshoe nail_."

Baeth sat back and watched, miserable, while Peter proceeded to pry off the other horseshoes and put them in his saddlebag. Then he insisted on looking at the feet of the other horses to see what condition their shoes were in. They all passed inspection and finally, _finally_, they were able to continue on.

Night had fallen by the time they reached the little cottage and the rain began to fall in earnest. The glowing windows of the little house beckoned invitingly as Peter dismounted and knocked at the door. He knocked again before the bar was finally lifted and the door opened a crack.

"What is it you want?" the voice of an old woman said.

"Space in your barn for our horses and a place by your fire for ourselves," Peter said, "We'll pay."

There was silence for a moment.

"All right, come in," the old woman said, "But remember, no more than a minute by the fire, you can sleep in the barn. Another thing, there's no food in the house."

"Thank you madam," Peter said, bowing, "We will go and see to our horses, then we will take our minute by your fire."

The door closed, and Peter turned back towards the pouring rain.

"Friendly," Baeth muttered.

They unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down.

"All our provisions are wet," Peter set dismally.

"Let's go sit by the fire," Baeth said. "I'm cold."

They knocked again and were allowed in. Each made a beeline for the fire and stood before it, shivering. Peter took in the room. There was a corner shelf with china and a copper teakettle on the mantel. The table was finally made and there was a bowl of flowers in the center. He turned back to the fire.

Baeth watched the flames flicker and leap. They were so beautiful, so transparent and somehow unreal. He held his hands to the warmth and watched the golden glow over them.

Suddenly Peter held something up to the light. Baeth looked and saw it was a horseshoe. Peter touched it gently and everybody leaned forward and suddenly realized how beautiful horseshoes are. It was a faultless arc of black with eight sparks of brilliant light. It was perfection. Peter held it aloft, staring at it as if it were a god. Baeth suddenly had a strong urge to grab it.

Then Peter put it back in his pocket and the spell was broken. Everyone breathed a soft sigh.

"Ever heard of horseshoe soup?" Peter asked no one in particular.

The old woman cleared her throat, "Horseshoe soup?"

"Yes," Peter said easily, "My brother made it once. The most delicious thing I've ever eaten. In fact, if you have some water and a pot I could show you."

"I've no food in the house," the old woman said suspiciously.

"Oh yes, you told us," Peter said lightly.

Grumbling, the old woman went into a back room and soon returned with a large pot filled with water.

Peter took it and hung it over the fire, then reverently, he took the horseshoe from his pocket, held it aloft, wiped a bit of grass from it, then dropped it into the pot. Baeth gaped.

"Is it as simple as that?" the old woman asked.

Peter nodded, then took a wooden spoon from off the mantel and stirred the pot carefully.

"Salt and Pepper," Peter noted, "Would go wonderfully well in horseshoe soup."

The old woman looked thoughtful, "I believe I have salt and pepper."

"What are you doing?" Baeth whispered as the old woman disappeared into the back room.

Peter held his finger to his lips and smiled.

The old woman returned and Peter applied the salt and pepper with great artistry. Everyone leaned forward again, caught by his actions. Peter stirred it again, carefully smelling it.

"It won't be ready for a while yet," Peter said and everybody relaxed, "but I've been thinking. Onions would taste remarkable in horseshoe soup. I think they would rather add to it."

There was silence for a moment.

"Now that you mention it," the old woman said hesitantly, "I believe I might have some onions about."

Glumkin chuckled as she departed into the back room again.

Peter chopped up the onions with his sword, gathered them up and dropped them in the soup. A moment later, a decidedly nice smell filled the air.

"I wonder," Peter said absently as he stirred, "if carrots might not taste good."

"Well, now that I think about it, I might have some carrots," the old woman informed them.

More chopping followed and the carrots followed the onions. The horseshoe soup was bubbling now.

"Potatoes?" Peter said thoughtfully.

The old woman bustled off.

All hands went to peeling potatoes and very soon they were added to the mix.

"Do you think the horseshoe soup might benefit from a bit of mutton?" the old woman wondered.

"Now that you mention it," Peter said thoughtfully, "I have a hunch it might."

The mutton did seem to go very well with the rest.

"Well," Peter said, stirring the soup, "I believe it's almost done. The horseshoe has done its work admirably. Now if you might set the table we can all benefit from this lovely soup."

The old woman nabbed Baeth and dragged him off to the pantry to carry to bowls. As she piled them into his arms, Baeth stared at shelves simply crammed with food.

The bowls were laid out and Peter ladled out the soup. Last of all, he fished out the horseshoe, dried it reverently and returned it to his pocket.

"One never can tell what one can do with a horseshoe," he said, winking at Baeth.


	28. The Kelpies

The Kelpies

* * *

><p><em>When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.<em>

~ William Shakespeare

* * *

><p>In the semi darkness of predawn Eustace propelled Lucy onto her horse.<p>

"Do you honestly think it'll work?" Lucy whispered quietly, as he swung astride his own steed.

"Martin knows his stuff," he said, with half a smile, "I think it will."

They urged their horses to a canter, flashing past the Narnian lines as they assembled silently just out of sight of the Telmarines on the ridge of the hill. As Lucy and Eustace broke out of the trees, they saw the Telmarine lines arrayed below them again, waiting for the attack. Silence hovered over the misty, blood stained field, silence and anticipation that could have been cut with a knife.

Lucy watched the woods, searching for a flicker of movement that would prove that the Narnian right had flanked the enemy. She saw nothing… then the clear voice of a horn split the air and the Narnians, lead by Martin, his chestnut coat gleaming, burst from the woods, their war cries hovering eerie over the battlefield as they charged, weapons flashing.

Looking over their shoulders, the Telmarine line wavered, then broke running.

"Now Ahearn," Lucy said quietly.

Ahearn gave her one glance and drew his claymore.

"Narnians! With me!" he cried, his voice echoing. Behind him came the ring of steel as swords were drawn, then they were charging down the hill, beating back the fleeing Telmarines.

Men and steel screamed as they clashed. Sparks flew, blood spurted, hooves trampled, cries rang across the field and Lucy watched in grim satisfaction. The Narnians, with only half the strength of the Telmarines, had the upper hand. And it did seem to work, for a little while at least. For an hour, the Narnians beat the enemy back, almost into the opposite tree line. Then something happened that changed everything.

From the end of the field, a man, no, a mere lad, in a chariot drawn by two stunning white horses, thundered between the ranks of the Telmarines. They rallied around him like iron shards drawn to a magnet. The Telmarine commanders yelled until they were hoarse and the Telmarine troops began to assemble again, their disorder replaced with formation.

"Where on earth did he come from?" Eustace exclaimed angrily, "little upstart!"

Lucy did not answer, but stood in her stirrup and watched while the Narnian line broke and scattered back. Before Eustace could stop her, she had kicked her horse to a gallop and flew to them. Half way down the hill, she dropped her reins and drew her bow to her ear, and with blinding speed, sent arrows whistling into the Telmarines, clearing a path for herself to her own people.

"Narnians! To me!" she cried, "Remember your freedom, remember your country! Remember your families! Do not draw back!"

She was almost crying, turning her horse in wild circles while she tried to see everyone and tell them what she felt. She groped at her side for a little ivory horn that hung there; she raised it to her lips and blew it. As the sound, high, clear and beautiful echoed away as thunder, the Narnians turned to look at her. She wished she were Peter, she wished she were anyone but herself. She felt they would never follow her. But they loved her more then she knew and they turned to go after her.

Eustace kicked his horse to a gallop only a moment behind her. He watched them follow her, but he knew it was hopeless, there were too few of them, too many of the Telmarines. He drew his broadsword; if all was lost then he would get Lucy out at least. Hacking right and left, he reached her and grabbed at the reins of her horse.

"Lucy!" he cried.

Behind them, at the ridge, they heard a clear sound of a hunting horn. It was a light merry sound; mocking at their defeat. Eustace knew before he even turned his horse that it must be Telmarine reinforcements. He saw them on the southern edge of the battlefield, strong well rested men under a huge banner. Then he paused, the banner was blue, not the green ground of the Telmarine flag. The wind caught it and it streamed out. Eustace let out a cry of joy, for the device on the banner was not the white horse of Telmar, but the golden lily of Archenland.

~o*o~

"So they haven't surrendered?" Lucy asked as she stood in her tent, tugging absently at her gold braid.

"No," Eustace said, "We've won this battle, but not the war."

A rustling of silk and they turned to see a leopard bow before them and announce, "General Calhoun of Archenland."

The tent flap rippled and a tall man entered, his sword at his side. He was fair haired and his face was young, but his eyes held a look of great experience.

"General Calhoun!" Lucy exclaimed.

"My lady," He bowed and kissed her hand.

"I hardly know what we would have done if you hadn't come!" Lucy said, "How did you know we were in need?"

Calhoun looked puzzled, "why my lady, you sent us a messenger yourself!"

"I?" Lucy gasped, "No, I thought about it, but I never did!"

Calhoun raised an eyebrow, "it was a golden cat, he explained your need and King Lune saw fit to send me and two regiments. Why, the message itself bore your seal!"

"How very odd." Lucy said, glancing down at her finger, which bore her royal seal, "I have it with me always!"

~o*o~

That night, Lucy invited the Archenlandish General and his aides to a small dinner in her tent. Several traveling tables were set up with folding stools and though they collapsed randomly through the meal, everyone had a rather delightful time. A stag had been shot that afternoon and the venison was particularly good, seasoned with the spices of victory.

But as the evening progressed, Lucy found her eyes growing heavy and Eva, who had been standing behind her, bent her head in worry.

"You must be very tired," she whispered.

"I'm all right," Lucy said, waving her away with a smile. But General Calhoun heard their exchange.

"We stay too long," He said standing up, "Your majesty must be weary and we ought to let you have your rest. Thank you for the marvelous evening."

"Thank you for coming." And Lucy rose to see them out. At last they were gone and she sagged.

"Bed," Eva said, taking her elbow.

"Wait, Eustace?" Lucy said just as her cousin ducked to leave the tent, "Who was the boy in the chariot?"

"He is the crown prince of Telmar." Eustace said, looking back.

"No wonder they rallied around him, then!" Lucy exclaimed.

"Actually," Eustace said, "They weren't rallying around him; they were rallying around the horses."

"The horses?"

"Yes, the horses," Eustace said, "they are kelpies, a kind of water horse, the Telmarines think they are gods, why they would harness gods to a chariot is beyond me, but that's what they do."

"Is that why their flag has a white horse on a green ground?"

"Yes, kelpies are sacred animals to them," Eustace said, "I believe they caught these two just recently. They have even carved a giant white horse into the chalk hill next to their capital city."

"Hmmm." Lucy turned away and stared out of the tent flap, then she turned to him suddenly.

"Eustace?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think there could be some way we could steal the horses? The kelpies, I mean."

"Hardly," Eustace said, "I imagine they are very well guarded."

"I suppose," Lucy said, "But if we could get them, it would help us."

"We could try if you like." Eustace said with half a smile.

"I would like."

* * *

><p>As they traveled Ettinsmoor, the country gradually changed and the road narrowed to little more than a sheep track. It was the farthest edge of the moor, which gave way to high crested hills, deep ravines and great silent locks between towering hills. Beyond these hills the mountains were still, always far distant.<p>

But it was the fifth day of travel that was marked the most on their memories. They labored up one of the steeper, more craggy hills and had just topped the crest, when they looked down a deep slope, very steep. At the bottom ran a great frothing river, cascading from the snow shrouded mountains in the northwest. It was so far down, they could barely hear the roar of it.

"Well that's a pleasant thought," Baeth said. "How are we going to get down that?"

"_We _can get down it," Peter said, "the slopes aren't sheer, but I don't want to leave the horses. It can't be so deep upriver."

"That's out of your way, sire." Glumkin said. "I've heard that the giants just built a bridge farther downstream. How would it be if we tried to find it? 'Course," Glumkin added with a wave of marshwiggleness, "We may _not _be able to find it."

"We could," Peter said, "How friendly are the giants nowadays?"

"Well, I wouldn't call them exactly _friendly," _Glumkin said. "But they aren't man eating if that's what you want to know."

"Were they ever man eating?" Peter asked.

"It was an old custom long ago," Glumkin said, "But they've all gone on fad diets and man isn't part of them."

"Well, I guess I'll take my chances with them being man eating," Peter said, turning Mystic's head. "Let's find this bridge."

* * *

><p>AN: Now we're getting somewhere...


	29. Lord Xenon

Lord Xenon

* * *

><p><em>Hospitality is making your guests feel at home, even though you wish they were.<em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>Trevelyan decided that he had been stuck with the job because…well…he was a fox and foxes are supposed to be clever. Though, Treve highly doubted that that particular aspect applied to himself.<p>

His job was to choose some well-trusted troops and steal a couple of white horses, can't miss them, he was told, they're _wet_. Wet? He thought, wet! What if they dried before he got there? But he wasn't fooling himself, he was awfully excited about the prospect, it was an exciting sort of thing.

It was now fourteen years since he first stuck his head out of his hole on the Narnian pass and saw Martin, Equus and Flavis. _Fourteen years! _It was hard to believe. Fourteen years ago he would have died from joy if he'd been given this sort of job; of course he wouldn't have been given the job for that very fact.

Treve trotted through the dark camp. He had to choose people he trusted, eh? Well, he would need someone small…not a squirrel, they tended to get overexcited. Not a bird, they were far too reckless. Mice! Perfect! They had their little rapiers to cut the ropes too! He'd need someone with hands, someone to lead the horses out; it would have to be a small someone. He'd need a spy, someone to get around in the dark, a bat naturally.

Treve gathered his little band.

Two of the quietest mice, three bats, one man cub, a small one, he didn't dare bring a big one and he had to have a man cub, because anything else would spook the horses.

He swore them to secrecy, then crept from the camp. The bats flew high like stealth bombers. Treve was not planning on getting lost. They went the long way through the woods, their tiny animal feet moving so softly they passed right under the noses of guards.

Treve led the group into a little dense bit of trees, then told the bats to see if they could find a pair of white horses. Like small dark shadows in the black of night, the bats fluttered away.

Treve dropped down to wait, his nose thrust into a damp leaf.

"Sir?"

The whisper came at his ear, it was the small dark boy he'd found to lead the horses. He was a lithe little thing, probably even had faery blood in his veins. His name was Alun.

"Hush," Treve whispered, "What is it?"

"There are two white horses over there."

Treve turned to look behind himself. A pair of ghostly white horses stood like marble statues, picketed between two tents. Behind them, tongue on the ground, was the chariot.

"It may not be them," Treve whispered, "Wait here until I get back."

Treve slipped from the underbrush and trotted silently through the silver-dewed grass. He dropped down on his belly and watched the horses, half wondering how he would figure out if they were wet or not. Three dark lumps on the ground proved that the guards of the horses were asleep after the long battle.

One of the horses shifted slightly, setting its cocked hind hoof down in the ground. Then it shook its head, its mane flying out like a silver bird's wing. A cascade of shining water droplets flew into the air, illuminated by the moon.

Treve almost smiled.

He slipped back to the others and dropped down. They crowded round him.

"It's them, sure enough," he whispered, "They're wet."

"Thank goodness," one of the mice breathed.

"Now," Treve whispered, "The guards are asleep, so it shouldn't be hard to go over there if you are very quiet. Alun, Squeekacheep and Peepacheep, I want you to go, Alun, you lead the horses out, Squeekacheep and Peepacheep, I want you to cut their tethers, it's faster than untying."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Should we try to get the chariot too?"

"It would be nice, but I think not."

"Aye aye sir."

Treve watched while the three dark forms slipped out of the underbrush and over the moonlit grass. He lost sight of them. The head of one of the kelpies jerked up and the ears pricked forward. Then the other looked up.

Treve prayed they would make no sound.

A moment later, he saw Alun rise to his feet and lay a hand on each of the kelpies' necks. Their ears rotated wildly and their eyes grew wide. Then Alun was walking towards Treve, the lead ropes in his hands. The kelpies consented to follow silently, their heads down.

Treve trotted to meet them.

"We're out of here." He whispered.

"What about the bats?" Peepacheep asked.

"They'll find their own way."

* * *

><p>They rode downriver at the edge of the gorge, the river rushing far below. It was cold up there and the horses were wary of the height.<p>

It was fairly late when they saw the bridge, huge and arching, easily covering the great distance across the gorge. It was a good bridge, definitely new, with some scaffolding still set up against the wall of the gorge.

"I don't see any giants," Baeth ventured.

"All the better," Peter said, "I'm not really fond of giants, man eating or not."

"Shall we cross tonight, sire?" Glumkin asked.

"Yes," Peter said. "Just for the fact that there aren't any giants on it."

In about five minutes, they reached the bridge. The first step came up to Peter's waist and Baeth had to wonder how they were going to get the horses up it. Peter was quite confident and made everyone dismount. One by one, the horses leapt up the steps, even Glumkin's fat pony made it without difficulty.

The bridge was so new that stone dust from carving gargoyles, giants, minotaurs, squids, centipedes and dreadful gods still littered the huge flagstones. The balustrades of the bridge were so tall that it felt like they were walking down a four-lane highway with tall buildings on either side. It was hard to believe they were on a bridge at all, except for the endless cold screaming of the wind, high overhead.

When they reached the top of the bridge, they were able to look down the other side and see an enormous giant highway, also new, stretching away up the mountains. Hazy In the distance were the towers of a great giant city.

They reached the other end of the bridge. The horses clambered down the steps and stood puffing, waiting for their masters. The humans and the dwarf mounted their horses and urged them to a walk.

"We've left Narnia behind," Glumkin commented, "We're in giant country now."

To the right, another road branched off the main road of a more normal size. They turned their horses onto this road and progressed down it for some time. At long last, they came out on the crest of a hill and looked down into a little green valley, a little sanctuary among the craggy and weathered mountains. In the center of the valley was a castle and Baeth thought in the back of his mind that it was an odd place for a castle. But it was a beautiful castle, somehow strange in that godforsaken place. There were tall fine trees of great girth all around the moat of the castle and the grounds themselves were green and fresh.

As they approached, the porter stuck his head out of his window to look at them as they pulled up their horses across the moat from him.

"Good sir?" Peter called up to him, "Would you go and inquire if your lord would allow us to stay a night?"

The porter smiled good naturedly, "For my part, I think so noble and knight and his companions would not want for a welcome!"

He waved once, then vanished from his window. About five minutes later, the drawbridge, groaning mightily, lowered slowly across the moat. The portcullis raised and the gates opened.

"One would think they were under attack, they are so well fortified," Peter muttered.

"Perhaps it is against the giants, sire?" Glumkin suggested.

Peter shrugged.

The travelers rode forward over the drawbridge. Once they were in the courtyard helpful hands held the horses' heads and steadied the saddles while they dismounted.

They were brought at once to the Great Hall. A fire burned on a hearth and the travelers sat down to await the lord of the house. Xenon to be exact. He was not long in coming. He was middle aged and of massive mold. He had a great beard of brown, just the shade of a beaver's coat.

He took Peter's hand firmly, "To this house you are heartily welcome: what is here is wholly yours, to have in your power and sway."

"Many thanks," Peter replied.

"Now!" exclaimed Lord Xenon, "You and your friends must be weary, my servant will show you to your chambers and you can refresh yourselves. Then, if you wish, you can come down to dinner."

* * *

><p>AN: Those of you who have read 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight' probably recognized that part. In some ways it follows the ballad, but it many ways it doesn't...I don't know if that makes any sense...

I told my friend that I named one of my characters 'Xenon', but she just stared at me blankly...please, please don't tell me that you don't know what Xenon is!

~Psyche


	30. The Turning of the Tide

The Turning of the Tide

* * *

><p><em>In every battle there comes a time when both sides consider themselves beaten, then he who continues the attack wins.<em>

~ Ulysses S. Grant

* * *

><p>"Lucy?"<p>

Lucy stood up and pulled the tent flap aside. There stood Eustace.

"What is it?"

"Treve got the kelpies."

"He _did_?" she exclaimed, "Where are they?"

"Right over here," Eustace put a hand under her elbow and turned her. There, standing a few feet away were the kelpies and crouching on the ground was a very smug looking Treve.

Lucy walked over to them and put a hand on the neck of one, startled to find that the hide was actually cold and wet and the mane was dripping. The kelpie's coat was very close, soft and dense, almost like that of an otter or like fine velvet. It wasn't hard and smooth like a real horse's.

The kelpie pricked a long white ear towards her and stared her down with an eye like a star sapphire. Gently, the cold, soft nose touched Lucy's cheek with a blast of salt sea air.

"They are beautiful," Lucy said. "I certainly hope they help us."

~o*o~

That very night the river otters and the beavers built a chariot.

Lucy could hear them working on it. It was their favorite thing to do, pound, pound, pound. The sound of shaving wood, then the sharp smell of drying paint.

The next morning, when Lucy dressed and came out of her tent, the otters and beavers stood around, proud and modest. Behind them stood the kelpies, manes like white sea foam, harnessed to the chariot.

It was a beautiful thing, covered with gold, green and red paint and intricate carving.

* * *

><p>They were brought to adjoining rooms off a parlor, all beautifully decorated, almost as richly as Cair Paravel herself. There were heavy silk hangings, edged in gold, tapestries of Calormen work, bearskins on the floor, velvet curtains and beautifully wrought furniture. A fire burned on a deep hearth and they all stood by it to warm the chill from their bones.<p>

The servants brought them new clothes of silk, satin, velvet and fine furs, which they donned. Peter, when he laid it aside, was rather chagrinned to see that his mail was beginning to rust.

"It's been ages since I've worn decent clothes," Baeth said, throwing himself down on a coach. "It seems like forever since we left Cair Paravel."

"Sire?" Glumkin asked, carefully curling his moustache in the mirror on the wall. "Do you intend to tell them who you are?"

"No," Peter said. "I'll be Gavin again."

In due time, they were again brought down to the Great Hall. Lord Xenon was there to greet them and bade them sit by him at the table. The log burned hot in the great fireplace and lights dashed and glittered through the hall. The table was piled high with every sort of delicacy and Baeth stared at it with pleasure. He had had only the High King's cooking since leaving Cair Paravel.

They talked and laughed of merry things and presently, the doors at the end of the hall opened and the mistress of the house entered, flanked by her ladies. Peter looked up and stared at her as she walked across the floor. She was some years younger than Xenon, with long red-gold hair and eyes as green as the spring leaf.

Lord Xenon introduced her as his wife, the Lady Kloris.

"Sir Knight," she said, "I have heard much of you from my ladies."

"Madam," Peter stood and bowed, "I am honored to meet you."

The lady took her place next to her husband and dinner was served.

"Good sir," Lord Xenon said, "Wither are you going in so hostel a country as this? Few travelers ever reach my humble castle. Pray, are you from Narnia?"

"I am sir," Peter said, "I am on a quest, perhaps you can help me. I am looking for a green chapel and a green knight of great stature. I must meet with him in three days time."

"You have hit a stroke of luck, friend," Lord Xenon said. "The Green Chapel is not a mile's ride from here."

Baeth looked up sharply.

"Is that so?" Peter exclaimed. "Then perhaps we can trespass on your hospitality for another three days?"

"You need not even ask!" Lord Xenon boomed. "You are as welcome as family!"

"More welcome," the Lady of the house said quietly.

"Madam," Peter said suddenly, "It may seem too forward, but you bear a great resemblance to someone I know. Did you ever have any sisters?"

"I did not," Lady Kloris said.

"Strange," Peter said.

~o*o~

They spent the evening drinking spiced wine and listening to the jester crack jokes and Lord Xenon tell them everything that hadn't been happening around the castle. Baeth was weary and the wine went to his head. The room began to whirl and his eyes closed as sleep overtook him. Strange dreams crowded into his head, the servants that stood around the room seemed to melt into stags, the jester looked like a hound dog, the castle was a ring of trees in a woodland glad next to a silver lake. Where Peter had been, there sat a lion and next to him was a bear where Glumkin sat. Lord Xenon looked twenty years younger and Kloris, Baeth dared not look at her.

With a start, he woke. The room steadied and he saw Peter looking deep into his glass. Lady Kloris stood and walked across the room to look out the window and Baeth watched her…the thing he had seen in his dream…

"Lord Xenon," Peter said at last, "I hate to ruin the evening, but my friends and I have traveled far today and are very weary."

"Of course," Lord Xenon exclaimed. "It was unkind of me to keep you up so long. But sir, remember, an early start tomorrow, you promised to come hunting with me."

"That I did," Peter said, shaking hands with his host. "I will be there."

* * *

><p>When the Telmarines formed their battle line at the end of the field, the sun had not risen, though the eastern sky was glowing. The field was dark and the line of trees opposite them was black. Slowly, the copper edge of the sun lifted above the trees and the sky spread with brilliant gold, paint streaked by the glowing fingers of the sun. So it was that Lucy, with bow drawn, standing in the chariot behind her driver, led the charge the following morning.<p>

When the Telmarines saw their sacred kelpies leading an army against them, they fled. The Narnian army drove them over the border. The city of Drachenberg was the capital of Telmar. It was there that the enemy fled. They raised the drawbridge, lowered the portcullis and closed the gates.


	31. Exploration

Exploration

* * *

><p><em>You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes. <em>

~ A. A. Milne

* * *

><p>Corin himself was probably happiest when he was allowed to go out into Tashbaan and see the sights. At least Lord Peridan and Flavis always accompanied him, but sometimes Edmund came and often times Mr. Tumnus was there as well. On the fourth day of their stay in Calormen they <em>all<em> went. Present buying was the first thing done and Edmund thought it was the first time he'd had any fun since they came.

"Anyway," Susan had said, "Lucy will love that colored glass vase and those green slippers really are _just_ the color for Eva."

But Corin's most memorable trip came on the sixth day when Susan and Edmund went to a very boring dinner with the Tisroc and Corin was left mainly to himself.

Corin at first amused himself with the Zoological garden. Several new animals had arrived the day before and he had looked at them all morning, but was not nearly prepared to look at them all afternoon, too. Therefore, he decided to go exploring. He hadn't really had a good chance to see the place where they were staying and he decided at once that now was an opportune time. 'Now' was always an opportune time and this 'now' was no less opportune than any others in his acquaintance.

With that reasoning, Corin rose and left the porpoise to its own devices. He had only taken two steps before he spotted a girl across the garden and he made at once for her. As he drew closer, he saw that she was the same servant girl he had seen their first day. She was wearing yellow again, and he half wondered if she had anything else to wear. She was holding a glass bowl of breadcrumbs and was nearly completely covered with little white doves, swooping down for dinner.

"Hullo!" Corin said cheerfully. "I say, can I help?"

The girl, in response, spun around. The dish flew out of her hands and shattered into a million pieces on the colored pavement. The flock of doves rose in a great throbbing mass, covering the sky. The girl stared at him with terrified eyes for a moment, then dropped in a heap among the pieces of the shattered dish, her forehead pressed against the ground.

"Oh I say!" Corin exclaimed, dropped down next to her. "Are you all right?"

He tried to raise the girl, but she refused to move and at first he thought she must be injured before he realized that she was merely terrified. He could see fear in every inch of her, from the tautness of her brown fingers to the tremor of her embroidered sari.

"Look here," Corin said, patting her shoulder, "I'm not going to hurt you, please sit up! I won't have you cutting yourself on the glass."

She peaked up ever so slightly and her frightened eyes looked up at him. Corin was impressed by those eyes, they were so light brown, they almost looked amber. The only time he'd ever seen eyes like that was on High King Peter.

"Oh come on," Corin took her hand and pulled her to her feet, "I won't have you being scared of me, how can we possibly be friends if you are?"

She stared at him wide eyed.

"What's your name?" Corin asked.

"O your majesty and O the delight of my eyes my poor name is Dara," she whispered very quietly.

"I'm quite sure I'm not the delight of your eyes, so please don't say it," Corin said, "Dara's a nice name, I'm Corin. I'm pleased to meet you properly this time."

He held out his hand in a friendly manner.

Dara stared at it for a second, then kissed it quickly.

"Great jumping horny toads!" Corin exclaimed, rubbing his hand fiercely on his tunic, "You're not supposed to kiss it, silly, you're supposed to shake it. Here, I'll show you."

And he demonstrated enthusiastically, Dara was quite shaken when he was done.

"Where do you live?" Corin asked.

"Here, your majesty," Dara whispered.

"Have you got any brothers and sisters?"

"No."

"Neither have I."

It was at that moment that Lord Peridan came striding out of a door to their left. He stopped when he saw them and looked at Corin rather perplexedly. Corin grinned back and Dara stared with great interest at the fragments of twinkling glass on the flagstones.

"Prince Corin," Lord Peridan said, coming closer, "His majesty, King Edmund said that you and I and Lord Flavis might go into the city, before he left. Would you care to?"

"I'd love too!" Corin exclaimed, then caught sight of Dara, "Can she come too?"

Lord Peridan raised an eyebrow, "I wouldn't imagine so."

"Oh I say!" Corin said, "That's hardly fair. If she came along she could explain everything to me."

Lord Peridan shrugged, "Do you want me to go ask if she can come?"

"If you would!" Corin exclaimed.

Lord Peridan turned on his heel and disappeared back through the door he came through.

Corin turned to Dara, "You do want to come, don't you?"

"Very much," She whispered, "I haven't been out in the city since I was very small."

"Really?" Corin said, "Why's that?"

"My parents died when I was eight," She said softly, "I was sold, or given to the imperial household as a slave and such I have been ever since."

"I'm sorry," Corin said, "I'm afraid I didn't know."

About a minute and forty-two seconds later, the headman of the household appeared; he was a lesser Tarkaan, rather old with a long white beard, quite matching his long white robes. He progressed towards Corin, bowing and rubbing his hands. He was followed by Lord Peridan who stopped and looked at Corin, not quite smiling.

"O your highness and O the delight of my eyes!" he exclaimed. "If you desire and yearn to convey Dara with you, you are doubly welcome! Verily, I make a bequest of her and confer her to you! If she delights and amuses you so significantly, I am unreservedly privileged!"

"Um," Corin said, "Thank you!"

Still grinning and bowing, the headman retreated through the doors. Corin watched his shadow retreat down the dark hall with awe.

"O your highness and O the delight of my eyes!" Lord Peridan bowed twice, rather dashingly; Corin jumped and stared at him, "O may you live forever," he added another bow, "O, be thou quite equipped to depart and advance to parts unscathed by thine royal hoofs?"

"What's this about hoofs?"

All three looked around to see Flavis grinning down at them. Lord Peridan immediately became his quiet and serious self. He was staring with great interest at a monkey that was swinging through the shadowing branches of an olive tree.

"Oh look here Peridan," Flavis said, "I heard you! You can't pretend I didn't. Where on earth did you learn all those big words?"

* * *

><p>AN: I love Corin and I love this part best of the whole story:)


	32. Bazaar

Bazaar

* * *

><p>Shopping:<em> The fine art of acquiring things you don't need with money you don't have.<em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>They departed immediately. Both Flavis and Peridan were well armed, practically walking armories, as Corin remarked. Corin himself had a dagger at his belt. As Flavis said, it simply wouldn't do if the Crown Prince of Archenland was stolen away in Tashbaan. It would be most inconvenient.<p>

The headman of the house offered to send a crier along with them, but they had refused. It turned out that they wouldn't have needed one anyway; everyone dove out of the way when they saw the centaur walking down the road.

Everything was beautiful! The city was beautiful; the dust thrown up by many feet and shined upon by the sun was beautiful, even the distant dome of the temple of Tash was beautiful in a loathsome sort of way.

When asked exactly where he wanted to go Corin of course said, "Why, the bazaar! I don't think one could see all of it in a million years!"

So to the bazaar they went.

For the most part, the bazaar was housed in an enormous building in the middle of the city, though it rather overflowed and some tents were pitched in the open air. They could already see the entrance of the bazaar, it was made up of three great arches inlayed with blue tile, but what they noticed the most was the mass of humanity coming and going and the great rushing, roaring noise they made.

They were already in the crowd, but the press became heavier as they drew nearer and they lost sight of the entrance. They could hear shouts and calls, a woman screaming, someone yelling that his purse had been stolen and Corin was aware that Dara had grabbed his belt in fear of being swept away in the flood of humanity.

Since Flavis was so much taller than anyone else for miles around, he directed them, keeping one hand on Corin's shoulder and the other on Peridan's. In that way they stayed together pretty well.

In the end, it took about fifteen minutes to move a hundred feet. At least there was music to keep them entertained. A group was playing for money in a dirty corner near the bazaar. They played strange instruments and Dara, shouting to make herself heard, explained what they were. There were the tanburs and ouds, or long and short necked lutes. There was a flutelike instrument called a ney. There was kemençe, which was a kind of fiddle and there were drums of beaten copper called kudüms. All together, they made a thoroughly wild and almost haunting sound.

"They all look different then most of the Calormens," Corin commented about the musicians. "They have a different skin tone."

"It is true," Dara said, "Many, many years ago, a different people ruled in the land of Calormen. Then the first of the Tisrocs, ancestor of our Tisroc (may he live forever) and descendent of the god Tash, invaded the land and drove out the old people and those who he could not drive out are called 'untouchable', less than human."

At long last, they made it into the bazaar. What a place it was! It was very long and on either side of a sort of hallway were tables and booths simply crammed with things. There were great baskets of oranges, each basket big enough to fit several Corins, and maybe a few Daras as well. There were bushels of coffee beans, there was chocolate. Corin bought a great deal of that. The first part of the bazaar really was entirely about food. There were things like green peppers, spinach, leeks, cauliflowers, artichokes, cabbages, celery, onions, garlic, lentils, beans, and tomatoes. There were nuts, especially pistachios, chestnuts, almonds, hazelnuts, and walnuts and fruits like plums, apricots, dates, apples, grapes, and figs. There were even eggplants, and Corin, though he remembered how much he hated them from supper last night, had to admit they were a pretty color.

As they progressed down this particular part of the bazaar, Corin insisted on trying some of this and a smidgen of that. He found out that he didn't like curry and decided that baklava was even better then he remembered it. Hummus, he found, was very good, and he even got his first taste of octopus. He especially liked the drink, raki, but he found it made him a bit light headed.

Farther on, Corin bought a turban and made Dara put it on him.

They passed intricate woodwork, rugs and carpets, silk, animal skins…

"I say!" Corin exclaimed, "That chap's selling parrots!"

After a bit of haggling, at which they found Corin was very apt, Corin became the proud owner of a gray parrot with scarlet tail feathers, the kind, the seller had assured him, that talked the best.

"Hello," Corin said to it, and it turned its head and fixed him with an intelligent silver eye.

They moved on and Corin was sad to remark that it really would take days to look at everything quite properly.

Since it never seemed to rain in Calormen, the roof of the bazaar was open to the sun and long shafts of light, golden, like everything else in Calormen, lit up the bazaar brilliantly as it became high noon.

"Eight bells," Flavis said carelessly.

"Why on earth are you thinking of ships here?" Corin asked him.

"The sea, actually," Flavis said, "Thinking cold thoughts tends to make one colder."

And Corin noticed that the centaur's black coat was dark with sweat.

In the long shafts of golden light filtering in from the roof, Corin saw something on the dirt underfoot flash. Stooping to pick it up, he saw it was a glass bottle, long, rounded. It had a pleated metal cap over the mouth and on it in red letters were spelled the words 'Coca-cola', likewise were the same words in relief on the bottle itself. The bottle was empty, so Corin pocketed it.

It was getting on to be the hottest part of the day and Corin was beginning to think going back and sitting in a shady spot somewhere wasn't such a very bad idea when he spotted something.

Flavis moaned when he saw what it was and Peridan smiled one of his rare smiles. Dara said nothing, but her eyes glowed.

"I say," Corin said, "Wicked looking, isn't it? But I've always wanted a scimitar."

Corin slid the sheath off the gleaming blade and watched it burning the sunlight, letters in a strange language inlaid in gold along the length of the curve.

"I say, Corin!" Flavis exclaimed when Corin accidently flashed light into the centaur's eyes. "Respectfully speaking, but do you really need it?"

"I know the High King has one," Corin said, "But he never let me touch it. He said I might if I ever disarmed him in a fair duel."

Flavis laughed and Corin got his way. They departed from the Bazaar for home, Corin with a singularly long and curving parcel under his arm, a silver parrot on his shoulder, a turban on his head and memories of a bright Calormen day he would never forget.

* * *

><p>"I want complete surrender," Lucy said as she and Eustace sat under an oak tree, shaded from the sun. They were on a small hill and below them; Drachenberg lay, from this distance looking almost like the sandcastle on a beach, surrounded by its moat. It was a massive city, walled and doubled walled, people moving like ants inside. Lucy shielded her eyes and squinted at the flag, the white horse on a green ground.<p>

"They'll just come back stronger otherwise," She continued, "There, that's something Peter would have said."

"Well, if there's one thing clear," Eustace said, pulling his horned helmet off and wiping his face with his handkerchief, "They're not surrendering. I had Marin shout our terms and they wouldn't listen."

"So the only way to make them surrender would be to fight them," Lucy said, "But we can't because they're behind their walls and we don't have any siege equipment."

"Perhaps our eagles, gryphons and hawks could attack them." Eustace suggested. The wind blew and the branches overhead swayed, raining acorns down on them like hail. "Ouch," Eustace added and put his helmet back on.

"No," Lucy said, picking up an acorn and looking at it, "There aren't enough of them, at least that much I know. Perhaps there's a stream going into the city…or tunnels."

"Sadly no," Eustace said, taking out his pocket knife and slicing open an acorn. The pale fruit was almost purple and smelled sweet, like maple syrup, "I've had the place searched thoroughly. It's impenetrable."

"It can't be impenetrable; no human ever built something that was impossible to get into…somehow." Lucy said with great conviction, "I wish we had gunpowder."

"All our gunpowder store is at Cair Paravel, would you like me to send for it?" Eustace asked, glancing at her.

"What would we do with it?" Lucy asked. "There isn't enough and it isn't explosive enough to really ruin the place."

"You're quite right."

"Has Martin any ideas?"

"None."

"Well," Lucy said, puling herself to her feet, "I think I'll go driving, I'll bring Eva with me."

"Not if you want to think," Eustace laughed, standing up, "Eva can talk the hind leg off a donkey."

"That's good, maybe she'll come up with something without knowing it."

"Maybe," Eustace said smiling, then thoughtfully took a bite of the acorn. He spat it out at once, "Disgusting!"

"Eustace," Lucy sighed, "You're a nut."

* * *

><p>AN: I tried to present the hot, noisiness of a bazaar in Turkey. I'd love to go to one someday.

~Psyche

PS: Xenon is one of the noble gases, the only stable elements on the periodic table. Their outer electron shells are full, which means they will not combine with any other element in nature. If the Hindenburg had been filled with Helium (another noble gas) instead of hydrogen, it would never have burned up. Anyway...


	33. The Horses of Achilles

The Horses of Achilles

* * *

><p><em>For him [Akhilleus] Automedon led the fast-running horses under the yoke, Xanthos and Balios, who tore with the winds' speed, horses stormy Podarge [the Harpyia] once conceived of Zephyros (West Wind) and bore, as she grazed in the meadow beside the swirl of the Okeanos. <em>

~ From the Iliad

* * *

><p>Lucy found Eva sitting under a tree, staring at a chickadee high above her. She started when she saw Lucy and scrambled to her feet.<p>

"Your royal majesty," Eva said, dropping into a deep curtsey.

Lucy returned the curtsey and held out her hand, "Come thou loyal and faithful lady in waiting. I bid thee accompany the royal we as we depart on adventures to unknown lands."

Eva burst out laughing, "And where thither art thou going?"

"We art going on a chariot ride," Lucy said, "You don't mind coming, do you? Riding behind those kelpies is like nothing I have ever experienced."

"I would be completely honored to come," Eva said, then added, "In fact, if you didn't invite me along, I'd run along behind."

The two of them harnessed the kelpies to the chariot. Their hands were wet and cold when they were finished.

"They're almost as cold as fish." Eva remarked as she climbed into the chariot behind Lucy.

"There're water horses!" Lucy exclaimed, then with a shout urged the horses into a gallop.

Riding behind the kelpies _was_ like nothing else. They ran like thoroughbreds, long and close to the ground. Their white backs gleamed in the sun and water showered from their manes in great rainbows, completely soaking queen and lady in waiting alike. A galloping horse is the most beautiful of things and these horses were ten times more beautiful than any others.

Lucy pulled the horses to a halt, then gave the reins to Eva. Lucy held on, mouth open, staring into the biting wind as the kelpies galloped again.

"It really is like nothing else," Eva exclaimed as she pulled the kelpies to a halt to let them breathe. They breathed in great gasps, their heads held high.

"They remind me of horses from our world," Lucy said softly. "The horses of Achilles. They were horses Poseidon himself gave him."

"Who's Poseidon?" Eva asked. "I don't know anything about your world, though it sounds very interesting."

"Poseidon was the Greek god of the sea; I suppose he was like a Naiad." Lucy said, "Anyway, the horses of Achilles…"

"What's 'Greek' mean?" Eva asked.

"The Greeks were a very ancient culture in our world," Lucy said, "Imagine a country full of Martins, Flavises and Equuses and you have the general idea of what they were like."

"They were all centaurs?" Eva asked.

"No, men. In our world creatures like centaurs or fauns or creatures like that are all mythical beasts." Lucy said, "Anyway, the horses of Achilles were very special. They were faster than other horses, braver then other horses and only Achilles could drive them. They didn't save Achilles though; he was killed in the Trojan War."

"What was the Trojan War?" Eva asked.

"Perhaps I ought to start from the beginning?" Lucy asked. "I know the whole story, Susan used to tell it to me at bedtime when I was little."

"I'd like to hear it," Eva said, letting the horses walk.

"Before I begin, you should know that the Greeks had a huge amount of gods. They had a chief god named Zeus and a bunch more. The Romans borrowed the greek gods and had about two thousand, even gods of door hinges and mildew…don't ask who the Romans were."

"I won't."

"The Trojan epic began when a chap named Paris ran into three goddesses arguing about whom was the most beautiful…"

"Hopeless argument," Eva muttered.

"…They each promised him all sorts of things if he would only say she was the most beautiful. Paris was caught in indecision until the last goddess, Aphrodite, the goddess of love, promised him the most beautiful woman in the world to be his wife. That cinched the deal and Paris declared Aphrodite the most beautiful."

"Hm." Eva said.

"It so happened that the most beautiful woman in the world was named Helen and was another man's wife. Aphrodite had a promise to keep, so she worked it all out and Helen ran away with Paris to a city called Troy."

"She's nasty," Eva declared.

"They all were, really," Lucy said. "Anyway, as you can imagine Menelaus, or her unfortunate husband, was rather upset about everything and he gathered together an army along with the help of the High King and sailed to Troy. According to Homer, or the man who wrote it all down, the Trojan war lasted about ten years and finally ended because of a rather ingenious idea…"

"I don't suppose Helen was very pretty after ten years," Eva said.

"I don't believe Homer ever addressed that idea," Lucy said, laughing, "Anyway, they finally won the war rather ingeniously."

"How was that?"

"Shut up and I'll tell you!" Lucy laughed, "They built a huge wooden horse, then got in their ships and sailed away. The Trojans were of course very happy to see the last of them and also happy with the great present they'd left behind. They dragged the horse into the middle of their city and hung flowers on it. They of course didn't know that there were Greeks hidden in the belly of the horse and when night came, they came out of the horse and opened the gates of the city for the other Greeks that had returned in their ships. There was great slaughter and I believe Menelaus intended to kill Helen, but, overcome by her beauty, he spared her."

"Interesting." Eva said.

"It was rather. It took the Greeks another ten years to sail back home." Lucy said.

They were silent for a while, watching the kelpies' heads bounce up and down as they cantered.

"We need a Trojan horse." Lucy said sadly.

"Why don't you make one and do the exact same thing?" Eva asked.

Lucy froze, then relaxed, "No, I don't think it would work. Homer made it all up, none of it happened."

"Nonsense," Eva said, "I don't know what your world's like, but it's bound to be based on some truth."

"Perhaps," Lucy said, "But how would it work?"

"Horses are sacred to the Telmarines, are they not?" Eva asked.

"I'd forgotten that." Lucy said. "Perhaps if we gave them the kelpies back too…I don't know. How would we convince them to bring the horse in the city?"

"Well," Eva said, "maybe we should carve a plaque telling them what to do. It can't a very big horse, because it has to go through the gates…"

"We don't have to put very big animals in the horse," Lucy continued, "I'm sure mice would do, they're good at opening gates. Then we must make a great show of leaving, they'll probably send out spies to see if we're really gone, so we'll have to vanish…but Narnians are good at vanishing…I see it all now! Thank Aslan for Homer! You _are _a genius, Eva!"

"Not I," Eva laughed, "You're the one who thought of it!"

~o*o~

"Your highness," the man bowed deeply before the King.

"What is it Lord Glozelle?" The King looked down from his throne.

"Sire," Glozelle said, "The enemy is in the process of creating a most curious thing."

"Eh?" The King peered out from under his shaggy eyebrows. "What's that?"

"They are building a wooden horse, sire."

The bushy eyebrows shot up, "are they indeed?" then he gestured, "Here, come here. Help me to my feet, this I must see. Confound the gout!"

The King leaned heavily on Glozelle's arm as they departed from the throne room. They progressed out onto the battlements and looked down. There, too far away to shoot with arrows, but close enough that everyone could see, was the frame of a large wooden horse, rising out of a heap of logs and branches.

In all, the horse took three days to complete. Every morning and night, the king would climb out on the battlements to watch the progress.

The beavers didn't use boards to make the horse, but used differently shaped logs and branches, so cleverly put together it almost looked like a real horse. It stood tall, head held high, mane and tail streaming behind it. They white washed it and for the Telmarines on the battlements, the beavers could be seen, covered with whitewash themselves.

It was on the morning of the fourth day that the Telmarines saw that the horse had been dragged closer to the city under cover of night. Great garlands of flowers had been hung around its neck and the two kelpies stood quietly under its shade. The Narnian army was nowhere to be seen.

A small scouting party was sent out to search for the enemy army. Not a trace of them was to be found, but they returned with a plaque that had been found on the wooden horse.

On it were carved these words: _For our honorable foe, a gift of a wooden horse. Place it in the center of your city as a remembrance of your noble adversaries. _

"I don't like it," the King said. "They have vanished too completely."

"I believe it is as good as a surrender," Lord Glozelle said, "if the Narnian army was anywhere on our soil we would have seen them."

"They are probably returning to their capital to rearm and regroup," the King said, "They must know that we will not rest until Narnia is ours." The King paused, "Well, let us bring the horse into the city. It would not do to leave such a beautiful piece of art in the elements. Call a holiday and celebrate! We have at least won this battle!"

* * *

><p>AN: I'm sure you all know the story of the Trojan War. I've always loved it and couldn't help including it.

~Psyche


	34. The Hunter and the Hunted

The Hunter and the Hunted

* * *

><p><em>Full of wiles, full of guile, at all times, in all ways, Are the children of Men <em>

~Aristophanes

* * *

><p>The next morning, there was a large party in the courtyard. Horses stamped the flagstones and snorted mist into the cool air. Peter swung astride Mystic, wearing the fine clothes and fur lined cloak his host had given him. Baeth sat on Ambyr, watching the dogs as they whined and strained at their leashes. Glumkin said nothing as usual. Presently, Lord Xenon came out of the castle, Lady Kloris on his arm. She kissed him goodbye as he mounted his horse and presently, the whole party thundered through the gatehouse and over the drawbridge.<p>

They passed through the gardens of the estate, then Lord Xenon gave the word and the dogs were turned lose. They cast around for a scent, then one opened up and the rest followed…the hunt was on.

"What exactly are we tracking down?" Baeth asked.

"We're after the fox, young sir!" Lord Xenon cried, spurring his chestnut charger forward.

They coursed through the woods, over the glade, crashed through streams and leapt fallen logs. Leaves turned yellow fluttered through the sunny air, flashing gold. Lord Xenon raised his horn to his lips and blew a blast, he had seen their quarry. They all saw Reynard, dashing red through the underbrush, the white tip of his tail flashing like a star. The hounds, nearly weeping with the scent, breathed hot on his heels, sobbing in the cool air.

Lord Xenon made the kill and Peter sat, his knee hooked around his saddlebow, watching the sun sinking slowly downward.

"Tomorrow indeed, we will have to hunt again," Lord Xenon exclaimed, "I saw the tracks of boar in the woods awhile back. I believe we all would enjoy boar at our table. Will you come again tomorrow sir?"

"Gladly."

~o*o~

The next morning, the stiff north wind blew and clouds hurried across the sky. They rode slowly, waiting for the hounds to catch the scent and Peter looked up at the sky, wondering if they were in for rain.

One of the hounds opened with a bell-like note and a moment later the others joined in, their voices echoing through the trees, their noses to the ground. Presently, the riders saw the tracks of the wild boar, turning up the dark earth on the forest floor. The air was still and breathless, filled with the voices of the dogs, the shouts of the riders and the cool, clear call of the hunting horn.

Baeth felt the first raindrop, and a moment later, the heavens opened and rain drove down in cold sheets, permeating the ground. The horse's hooves sank into mud as they cantered forward and the dogs ran on, the scent too warm in their noses to be washed away by rain.

They cornered the boar in an outcropping of rocks. It stood embattled, its white tusks gleaming in the rain, its gray hide shivering as it half charged them, retreated and charged again. The horses pranced and whinnied, their eyes white rimmed.

Spears were thrown and the boar squealed, splitting the air with its shrieks. Frothing, it leaped forward, scattering the horses. The boar thundered down the hill and at last, they cornered it again, in the middle of a stream. Lord Xenon dismounted and drew his sword, a hunting sword, fitted with a cross piece in the blade to prevent the boar from running up it and goring the holder. Xenon delivered the death blow and the boar fell heavily, its blood mixing with the rain that poured off its sides into the stream.

The gentlemen dragged the animal to the shore, while the hounds were caught and tied up. They gutted the bore and dressed it with trencher-knives, giving the unwanted parts to the dogs where they strained, tied to a tree.

Baeth was very weary as they returned to the castle and saw the giant elms, stretching across the sky. Tired and soaked through, they trooped into the castle to change, before coming down to eat their quarry.

"I don't think I'm coming down," Baeth said as they dressed for dinner.

"Tired?" Peter asked.

"I'm not feeling very well," Baeth admitted.

Peter felt his forehead and looked suddenly grave.

"Rest then," Peter said gently. "Milord Xenon will probably want us to go hunting with him tomorrow."

"I won't be going," Baeth said.

"We'll stay with you, then." Peter said.

* * *

><p>"Well, we're going in, Peepacheep."<p>

"You bet, Squeekacheep!"

The horse was beginning to move, the first part of the plan was working. There were five special operation commando mice in the belly of the horse, all armed to the teeth. Through the cracks in the horse, they were able to see the city gates opening and the line of men straining on ropes to drag the horse into the city.

Woman and girls were running alongside, draping great ropes of flowers over the horse. One of the mice nearly sneezed and was firmly sat on by his comrades.

* * *

><p>Lord Xenon was most grieved to hear that the Narnians would not be accompanying him on the hunt the following morning.<p>

"This is sad news indeed," Lord Xenon lamented. "We will miss your company most sorely."

"And we, yours," Peter said amiably.

"But, so your time here will not be wearisome, I propose a game!" Lord Xenon said, brightening.

"And what is that?" Peter asked.

"Let whatever I win on the hunt be yours in return for whatever you win here at the castle," Lord Xenon suggested, then slapped his thigh, "that's an excellent game!"

"What would I win here?" Peter asked hesitantly.

"I know not," Lord Xenon said, saddening, "But say we shall do it!"

"Right, we shall do it," Peter said, half grinning.

~o*o~

Peter slept very late the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains on the bed puzzled him, normally, he woke at the crack of dawn. The sound of the latch of his door being stealthily raised alerted all his senses and he laid quiet, hearing footsteps moving across the floor. A hand pulled aside the drapes, but it was not the stubby brown hand of Glumkin, but a white, feminine hand.

Through his eyelashes, he watched as Lady Kloris pulled aside the drapes and sat gently down on the bed. For a full minute, he feigned sleep, every muscle in his body taut. _What did she mean by being there? _He wondered and wished with every fiber that she would go away. At last, he could bear it no longer and he opened his eyes to look at her in pretend surprise.

"Ah man, how can you sleep?" she asked, laughing, "The morning is so clear! A slack sleeper you are to let one slip in. Now you are taken, fairly my prisoner, let us make a truce, or I'll bind you to the bed."

"Good morning, dear lady," Peter said, matching her jesting tone, "if it would please you to let your prisoner rise, I would go and attire myself better for entertaining a lady."

"No you shall not, I shall keep company a while with my captive king," she said, smiling, "because as certain as I sit here, you are King Peter whom all the world worships where ever you ride. Any lady in the realm would envy my position most greatly."

"Well, I take it very kindly that one as worthy as you would take time out of your day to come and talk with your knight – it comforts my heart." If she heard the sarcasm in his voice, she did not show it.

"Well, my lord and his liegemen have long departed and my ladies are far away," she said smiling, "the door is locked and the house is asleep. We two are the only ones awake."

"Well, fancy that," Peter said, "Remarkable coincidence."

"I should so like to know your adventures and all the foes you have braved and love you have suffered for beautiful ladies. Surely you have a lady love of your own?"

He half wondered what would happen if he bolted for it, but this idea seemed rather improbable. He would just have to wait until she left, she would have to leave eventually. His ears pricked to a sound in the other room, good, Glumkin was up and about.

"I have not a lady love and won't for a while," Peter said shortly.

"Those words are the worst of all, but I have my answer though it took so long to find it; but our guest is not King Peter," Lady Kloris said, shaking her finger at him, "King Peter is supposed to be a man of perfect manners. _He_ would not have been so long by his lady without claiming a kiss."

"But that would be hypothetically speaking," Peter said, nervously inching away from her, "I might not be King Peter and you might not be the lady. I'm quite certain you would not want to kiss so lowly a knight as myself."

"Oh, but you are wrong," Lady Kloris said.

"What if I'm not?" Peter suggested.

"If you will not claim a kiss, then at least give me some token of regard before I go," Lady Kloris said, somewhat taken aback.

"Alas, Lady," Peter said, "I have none to give and I will take nothing, I forego all gifts. Let us simply remember each other as we might remember a day a very long time ago."

"Your words are very cruel, King Peter," Lady Kloris said sweetly.

"Are they? I didn't mean them to be."

"Here," with deft fingers, she untied her girdle of green silk, overwrought with gold and pressed it into his hands. "Take this to remember the lady whose heart you broke."

"Madam, I am grateful for the favor you show me, but alas, I must decline," Peter said.

"Does my gift displease you because it is so simple a thing?" Lady Kloris asked, "This garment has a rare virtue. Anyone who girds it around himself cannot be harmed neither by man nor beast nor by any craft above or below."

"Yet again, I must refuse it," Peter said.

"But I will not be refused," Lady Kloris said. Quickly, she kissed him, then fled from the room.

~o*o~

The instant she was gone, Peter leapt from the bed and bolted the door. A moment later, the door to the adjoining room opened and Glumkin came in.

"Sire, I heard voices, is all well?"

"Um, not really," Peter said, "that was the strangest thing that ever happened to me. Next time you hear voices, Glumkin, charge right in."

"Yes, sire."

"Now, how is Baeth?" Peter asked.

"Better, I ken he is mending." Glumkin said, "I pray he will be well enough to ride with us tomorrow to the green chapel."

"If he isn't, you will stay with him," Peter said, pulling his doublet over his head in record time.

"I hope neither of us stays," Glumkin said. "I do not like this place."

"I don't either," Peter said decisively.

He went into the adjoining room, where he found Baeth laying on his bed. Dropping the green girdle next to him, he told them the whole story from beginning to end.

"Are you keeping it?" Baeth asked, picking up the girdle.

Peter looked up at him, his face taut, "I don't know."

* * *

><p>AN: I condensed 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight'. In the story, she breaks into his room every morning for three days while the lord of the castle is off hunting. Sir Gawain very cleverly gets her to go away again. I wonder why he never locked the door...

~Psyche

anyway, I wonder what the Lady of the Green Girdle will do next...

PS: We will be getting back to our reviewers as soon as possible!


	35. Wooden Horses

Wooden Horses

* * *

><p><em>A horse is poetry in motion. <em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>In the two days that it had taken for the beavers to build the horse, the moles and dwarfs were digging in. Lucy decided that the giants were too large to be hidden and sent them back to Cair Paravel. The rest of the animals and humans were either able to hide in the tunnels the moles and dwarfs had created or conceal themselves in the forest.<p>

Lucy was sitting on the edge of a gaping hole recently created by a fox when an eagle swerved overhead, then dropped straight down to land next to her.

"The enemy has taken the wooden horse into the city," he reported gleefully.

"Goldwyn!" Lucy exclaimed, climbing out of the hole. "Well _done,_ you!"

She caught sight of Eustace and ran to him.

"Did you hear?" she exclaimed, "They've taken the horse into the city! Nothing can possibly go wrong now!"

"It certainly looks that way," Eustace replied. "Listen, an ambassador from Calormen arrived at Cair Paravel yesterday. Calormen suggests that we have talks with Telmar and then peaceably give up the Fife of Yngleswood."

"That's ridiculous!" Lucy exclaimed. "They want everyone to disarm and sign a pact on world peace, and they are the first who would want to attack us! Edmund says he got a very strong feeling from the Calormene ambassadors that they think we are some sort of blemish on the map. They can't wait to get rid of us and if Telmar can help then they're all for it."

"Exactly my thinking," Eustace said. "I hope you don't mind, but I sent word to Paladin to tell the Calormen ambassador to buzz off, we're doing quite well enough as it is."

"If Susan marries Rabadash…" Lucy paused. "I only wish Rabadash wasn't a Calormene, let alone heir to the throne. I like him despite myself."

* * *

><p>In the courtyard that evening, Peter went down to greet the Lord of the Castle as he rode in with his lords. Laughing Lord Xenon dismounted his horse, then hefted a large buck to the ground beside Peter.<p>

"And what have you got for me in return, eh Gavin?" Lord Xenon asked, winking.

Peter looked down at the buck, then drew forth the green girdle. He glanced at it thoughtfully for a moment, ticked some dust from the green silk, then handed it to Lord Xenon.

Lord Xenon's smiled never changed as he took it.

* * *

><p>The days in Tashbaan poured by like light and water. Calormen was beautiful, the world was beautiful, Susan laughed and her heart was light, but Edmund watched with a warier eye.<p>

Ever since first arriving in Tashbaan, Edmund was plagued with headaches; somehow he knew it was wrong, wrong that they should be there. He had nightmares when he slept and in the day, the sun was dark in his eyes. He worried about Susan, about Peter and Lucy, and wished with all his heart that he was back in Narnia again.

"Is he all right?" Susan had asked Corin when Edmund would not respond to her inquiries. "He seems preoccupied and very worried."

"I'm sure he's fine; he probably got a splinter and is worrying about how to get it out." Corin had assured her, but hadn't been so assured himself.

Edmund watched Susan with hawk eyes and saw that she seemed perfectly happy and content. It was only every now and then, when she thought herself alone, that her face was troubled and he wondered what she was thinking of.

It was during one of his solitary treks down a hallway that Edmund heard a commotion. One of the guards had caught someone trying to get in. Intrigued, Edmund went to inspect the situation.

It was an 'untouchable'. Edmund could just see the brand on his forehead, proving him such. The man was not tall and was dressed in white.

"What is this?" Edmund asked the guard.

"O my master and O the delight of my eyes," the guard said, bowing three times. "it it of them who are called the 'untouchables' and this man has no power of speech. He is but a poor beggar who has lost his way."

Edmund was almost ready to agree with him. The man seemed so lost and helpless. But then, the beggar looked up for a fleeting moment and locked Edmund's eyes with his own.

"Let him come with me," Edmund said turning and gesturing the man to follow.

When Edmund arrived at the door of his room, he ushered the man in first, then followed him, locking the door behind him. Then he turned to face his guest and raised an eyebrow in question.

The man pointed at his open mouth and Edmund saw that his tongue had been severed.

"Of course," Edmund said, "Can you write?" he pointed at his writing desk and the man went to it and began to write.

_I have come from my master with a message_, _O King._

Edmund nodded and the man wrote again.

_King Edmund,_

_Greetings,_

_Your life and the life of your lady sister are in danger. The Tisroc and Prince Rabadash are not what they seem. One is a cruel and bloody tyrant and the other is a selfish and spoiled child who proves to be more like his father every day. I can no longer bear the thought of your dear sister joined with such a man._

_I urge you to take every precaution and to detach yourself from Prince Rabadash in the most subtle manner. Leave Tashbaan as soon as it may prove possible._

_Sincerely,_

_A friend_

"Is that all?" Edmund asked, "Can you not tell me more? The identity of this friend?"

The man shook his head.

Edmund stared at him for a moment, then picked up the paper, held the corner of it to the candle used for melting wax and watched it disintegrate.

"Thank you," Edmund said.

~o*o~

"Did you see him? Did you give him the message?"

The beggar stood in the doorway, watching his master. With hand signals, he explained all that had passed.

"Do you think he believed it?"

_I know not._ The beggar signaled.

"Oh! That I was not locked up in this room! I could go to him myself and try to explain! It is of no use signing my name, he does not know it, he would not understand! Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction."

* * *

><p>AN: I deviate from 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight' when Peter hands the girdle over to the Lord of the castle. In the story, Gawain keeps the girdle.

~Psyche


	36. The Fall of Troy

The Fall of Troy

* * *

><p><em>Never be afraid to try something new. Remember, amateurs built the Ark. Professionals built the Titanic.<em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>It was midnight that the mice in the belly of the horse began to act. Carefully, they unbuckled the straps holding the door in the horse closed, then one by one, they slipped out.<p>

One of the guards at the gate sat with his back against cold stone. He had watched the horse most of the night, delighted with the precision and beauty of it. Narnian craftsmen, he thought, were unsurpassed.

He had been one of the men who had helped drag the horse in that morning, what a feeling of victory they felt! Perhaps at last the fighting was over and the Narnians would be peaceable. Perhaps at last the Narnians would give up the Fife of Yngleswood to its rightful owners.

The guard wiggled his back against the damp stones behind him, then started. Dark shadows seemed to be dropping from the wooden horse. He blinked, they were gone.

Must be dreaming, he thought, he rubbed his eyes. The next moment, he saw stars, then blackness.

Squeekacheep stood over the unconscious body of the guard and signaled to the other mice. They all approached, having silenced their target guards in their own manner.

Peepacheep was already climbing up the great wooden doors to inspect the bar laid across them. There was no portcullis, only these heavy wooden doors.

Standing on each other's shoulders, the mice managed to lift the wooden bar. It creaked, then dropped to the ground with a muffled thud. To the mice it was like thunder and lightning. They all hit the ground, expecting every guard in the city to converge upon them.

There was silence. No one came.

Squeekacheep signaled the other mice and they all went to the door again. Straining every muscle, they opened the door; a crack, an inch, a foot. Squeekacheep slipped out.

Squeekacheep unshouldered his pack and rummaged through it while the other mice crouched ready on the other side of the door, swords in paws. Squeekacheep pulled a rocket from his pack, lit the end and watched it shoot into the air, then explode into a ball of colored fire. Quickly he slipped back through the gate.

~o*o~

"There's the signal," Eustace said.

"Good," Lucy said, putting her helmet on. "Signal the charge."

Eustace put a hunting horn to his lips and blew a merry blast. He and Lucy gave a loose rein to their destriers and the horses leaped forward, the army galloping or running behind them down the hill toward Drachenberg.

Lucy leaned low over Ashquar's neck as they thundered over the bridge leading over the moat. The gates were wide open and she swept through, Eustace on her right, Martin on her left.

Eagles and hawks had learned the layout of the city and she knew at once where the capital lay. Ashquar redoubled his speed as she made for it. They swept past the wooden horse and started up the long row of steps leading to the front entrance of the palace. She saw that Eustace and Martin had drawn their swords and were cutting down the palace guards.

She guided Ashquar through the entrance; there ahead of her was the grand staircase. Ashquar leaped up it.

The servants were running about screaming as Lucy guided her stallion down the hallway. The King's bedroom was at the end of the hall, she had been told. She saw Eustace was right behind her.

Ashquar skidded around the corner; there ahead of her was the door. Lucy dismounted while her steed was in mid gallop. She burst through the door into the darkened room, pulled an arrow from her quiver and notched it onto her bowstring.

It was just light enough to see that a very fat someone was sitting up in the bed.

"Hello," she said. "You _are_ the King? I'm Queen Lucy and I'm _not _pleased to meet you."

~o*o~

"You see, this is most extraordinary."

"I'll say it is," Eustace said. "When you go invading somebody else's boarder you've got to expect things like this."

"I'm not well," the king flapped his hand in his face to show how ill he was.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asked with genuine concern as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "You see, the faster you surrender, the faster you can go back to bed."

"Which rooms are your chief ministers?" Eustace asked.

But he got no answer. At that moment, Martin came in, hauling with him a few lords by the ears.

"Your majesty," he said, bowing to Lucy. "The city is secured."

"Wonderful, thank you, Martin," Lucy said. "Now, who has the surrender?"

"I have," Eustace said, pulling it out of his doublet, he bowed and handed it to her. "Your majesty."

"Thank you, Lord Eustace, now," she turned to the king, "…no, no, you don't have to get up…will you sign our terms of surrender? Oh! Do we have anything to write with?"

"I have a charcoal pencil," Eustace said helpfully.

"That won't do at all," Lucy said, "we must have pen and ink."

"Downstairs, perhaps?" Eustace said. "Oh good man, Martin."

Martin had galloped out the door. Minutes later, he returned carrying a handful of quill pens and an ink jar. Somehow, he'd managed to splash himself with ink.

"Now," Lucy turned again to the king, "_will_ you sign our terms of surrender?"

The king held out his hand and she handed the paper to him. The king read it though, gradually getting rather blue in the face.

"Surrender…disarming…tribute!" the King sighed. "Where's the pen?"

"So you will sign?" Lucy asked eagerly, handing him the pen. "It's the first term of surrender I've ever drawn up and I'm rather proud of it."

The king signed with a flourish and Lucy signed after him.

"That's perfectly lovely," Lucy said, looking at it. "Now, will you shake hands now that it is all over?"


	37. Beneath the Skin

Beneath the Skin

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><p><em>Beauty is but skin deep, ugly lies the bone; Beauty dies and fades away, but ugly holds its own<em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>Friday marked that they had been in Tashbaan for a week and a half. Nearly every night they had dined with the Tisroc and Rabadash, but this night, because it was a holy day, they were staying home for supper.<p>

Corin marked this particular Friday carefully, for it was Friday the Thirteenth. Corin himself did not believe in curses or jinxes, but he knew well enough that the Calormen servants did. So, he began to booby trap the whole house. Unfortunately, Edmund was the first to be caught and in no uncertain terms Corin was made to clean up everything, then sit quietly in a room. With the door locked on the outside.

The room was on the back of the house and overlooked a lonely road winding through the city. Below the road, Corin could just see the outer harbor and their own fair vessel moored safely on the shelf, her elegant lines reflected almost perfectly in the oily water of the harbor. Tiny sailors were walking about on her deck and he could see the rainbow splashes of water as they drove mops along the planks.

Just to the stern of the _Black Swan,_ a buff bowed merchant vessel from the Seven Isles was hove to, her great sails curled and billowing in the wind. The next moment came the water thrown up by the anchor, then slowly, the sails slipped down the mast and turned into neatly rolled white sausages.

Shouting in the street directly below him brought Corin back from the harbor. Looking down into the street, Corin saw a green clad horseman reining in a black horse and speaking angrily to a peasant who was trying to drag himself out of the road. Corin saw with shock that the man was missing his legs.

The horse danced, black mane streaming in silky folds, neck gleaming with sweat and foam. The horseman seemed almost familiar to Corin, his slim build and peculiar poise brought Corin very close to knowing him, but not quite. In a quick, smooth motion, the horseman unsheathed his scimitar and in a moment, the one legged peasant was dead at the horse's feet.

We can hardly blame Corin for shouting. He had never witnessed anything so cold and bloodthirsty as that killing before. The horseman, who had heard Corin even though the glass, looked up sharply and Corin almost shouted again. It was Rabadash.

The light glared off the glass and Corin stepped back as if he had been struck. Rabadash, looked up for a moment longer, but then, with a dismissive gesture, he touched his heel to the horse's flanks. The stallion burst into a gallop and the accompanying Tarkaans thundered after.

"O my master, do not let him startle you."

Corin spun around and saw Dara standing behind him.

"How did you get here?" Corin asked.

Dara looked puzzled, "I have been arranging flowers there," she pointed to an alcove of the room where she could have easily been hidden behind a column.

"Oh," Corin half smiled, "Edmund'll be in a stew. I was supposed to be in solitary confinement."

Dara couldn't help smiling even though she tried not to and Corin went back to the window. It drew him like a magnet, he didn't want to see and yet…a woman, weeping in grief, was dragging the body away. A trail of crimson sank into the burning sand of the road and pooled in the hoof prints of the horse.

"It was Prince Rabadash, was it not?"

Corin glanced at Dara where she stood just behind him.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Nearly every Friday, he rides out into the city, death and destruction following him. He believes that since it is a holy day, everyone he kills will go instantly to heaven."

"How awful."

"Some Fridays he kills no one." Dara continued, "If he rides a white horse, he is in an amiable mood, but if he rides a black horse and wears green, a color sacred to Tash, then he is angry. He has killed over two thousand people himself."

It was about fifteen minutes later that Edmund had mercy and returned to Corin. He was surprised to see Dara, but when it was explained how she came to be there, he quite understood. With a curtsey, Dara left the room. Then Corin told Edmund about Rabadash.

Edmund was silent for a moment, but he did not seem as surprised as Corin expected him to be.

"You did not come with us to the palace last night, Corin," Edmund said, "But Rabadash asked for Susan's hand –"

"She refused him?" Corin asked, hardly daring to hope.

"No," Edmund said. "She asked him to give her time. He was angrier then he ought to have been."

"Edmund -," Corin said. "I'm beginning to be scared of this place."

Edmund knew by his wide eyes that he meant it.

"I know," Edmund said, passing a hand over his face. "Somehow we must convince Susan that this man is not who she thinks he is. I had hoped that she might see for herself, I do so hate to cause her pain."

* * *

><p>When they first sighted Tashbaan they almost thought it was a mirage. It rose in the distance through layers of shimmering atmosphere. A golden city on a hill; seeming to brush the golden sky.<p>

Bree picked up his pace, lifting his legs high and fairly prancing in excitement. Even Hwin moved a little faster. Shasta was all curiosity.

"What's it like?" He asked Aravis.

"It is very grand," Aravis said. She didn't bother to tell him she'd only been there once before. "It has been called one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It rises up, terrace upon terrace, street upon street. It is truly wonderful."

Shasta raised his eyebrows. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that the place sounded more frightening then wonderful.

As they approached Tashbaan the air began to get cooler. Bree explained to Hwin, though he wasn't able to explain to the others for fear of being overheard, that this was because the river was very cold (because it was so deep) and the sea was not very far away.

The desert began to give way to roads paved with flat rocks. Farther on they began to pass houses, then palaces. The traffic was increasing too. They were close enough to the city and the bridges over the river to see an almost solid jam of humanity. They heard tales from travelers coming away from the city saying that if you could get into the city in under three hours you were doing well.

"I really think we ought to have tried a different way," Aravis hissed when they were caught in a traffic jam and poor Hwin was almost crushed between a wall and a camel.

She saw Bree's ears snap back as he warned her not to say such a rebellious thing again.


	38. Unusual Disappearance of Prince Corin

The Unusual Disappearance of Prince Corin…

* * *

><p><em>Sometimes only one person is missing and the whole world seems depopulated. <em>

~Alphonse de Lamartine

* * *

><p>That night, the Tisroc hosted a banquet in honor of the wedding of one of his daughters. Edmund, Susan, Corin and most of the Narnians attended.<p>

Corin no longer felt lighthearted and watched Rabadash most of all, now; he finally realized why Edmund had been so silent these last two weeks. Susan, he saw, seemed quite happy. It vexed him to think that she could possibly be happy with such a creature as Rabadash sitting opposite her and ogling over her beauty. How could she be so blind?

Edmund sat on Corin's left and Corin saw that Edmund watched Susan and Rabadash quite as much as he did. Corin almost felt that they were in a secret together and the thought gave him a warm feeling. To Corin's right sat Mr. Tumnus and the faun seemed quite jolly. On the other side of Mr. Tumnus sat the Grand Vizier.

"And how do you like Tashbaan?"

Corin was startled out of his reverie as the Grand Vizier spoke to Mr. Tumnus.

"It's a very fine city," Mr. Tumnus said, "But now, with high summer coming on, my heart turns to the cool woods and dewy slopes of Narnia."

The Grand Vizier shrugged, then smiled thinly, "There is nothing to hinder you from dancing there again, little goatfoot, always provided you leave us in exchange a bride for our prince."

Suddenly there was a crash to Corin's left and looked across the table to see that a serving girl stood behind Rabadash with a pitcher of wine. Rabadash's glass was missing and Corin realized that she must have knocked it off the table.

Angrily Rabadash rose and stuck her across the face, sending her reeling backwards and causing her to drop the pitcher as well. Corin heard it shatter on the floor. With a shout, Rabadash half drew his scimitar, then caught sight of Susan's horrified eyes. Grudgingly, the prince pushed the scimitar back into the sheath and sat down again.

The feast dragged on.

At least half the Tarkaans were drunk, Rabadash included. The Tisroc, high on his lonely dais, clapped his hands and a group of dancing girls, barely clad, entered. In fact, they were wearing more of nothing then anything.

Susan, stared at them for a moment, completely horrified, then spoke to Peridan who sat on her left. Peridan nodded, then rose and made his way to where Corin sat.

"The Queen's grace wishes you and I to go home," Peridan whispered. "Quietly now."

Corin stood up and followed Peridan, close to the wall, out of the hall.

~o*o~

Susan's evening was turning from bad to worse. First the incident with Rabadash and the slave girl, and now these dancing girls…her relief was beyond expression when one by one, they filed from the hall.

The next bit of entertainment was worse.

Two men, very tall and skin black as ebony, entered. They were armed and wore leopard skins over their shoulders.

Now the tables had been arranged in a circle about the room, with a large round place in the middle where the entertainment performed. The two men went to the middle of this place and saluted the Tisroc. Then, to Susan's shock, they began to fight.

It was horrible. Susan had seen enough sword fights to know that these two were really trying to kill each other. She sat frozen until she saw first blood. One had caught the other on the arm and crimson blood welled up.

Susan was on her feet in a moment, the blood pounding in her head. She didn't realize what she was doing before she did it.

"Mighty Tisroc!" she called up to the dais. "I am a healer, I fight to save lives, not watch two people try to destroy each other without purpose or meaning! I beg you, spare their lives!"

Rabadash stood up so suddenly, his chair fell over. His face was red with anger and his temples throbbed. Edmund stood up a moment after him, waiting for the worst.

Time stood still. The room held its breath.

But the eyes that looked out from under the Tisroc's camelish eyebrows were benevolent and he was feeling especially pleased with himself that evening.

"Fair lady! Do not concern yourself!" he cried. "I will give you these two gladiators as a gift! And you will never have to watch them fight again!"

~o*o~

They road home through the dark streets on litters that night. When they reached their house, Susan took Edmund's hand and wouldn't let it go until she reached a deserted room.

"Edmund!" she cried, turning to him, "I cannot marry that man! He has proved himself to be nothing but a cruel and bloody tyrant during our stay. I am ashamed to think how I loved him when we were still in Narnia," Her voice broke. "Oh Edmund, I cannot bear it! That we could leave at once!"

Edmund put his arms around her and stroked her hair while she cried and remembered, for some strange reason, how she used to comfort him when he had gotten a splinter or cut as a little boy.

"I promise you, dearest sister," Edmund whispered, "That we will leave this place before the week is through."

Susan pulled away and tried to wipe her tears away. Edmund offered her his handkerchief.

"Thank you," She said, sobbed, tried to smiled and sobbed again. "Thank you for everything."

"Perhaps you should try to sleep now," Edmund suggested.

Susan nodded, "I'll go kiss Corin good night first."

Edmund smiled and kissed her on the forehead, "be good."

"I'm _always_ good, Edmund!" Susan said, archly.

~o*o~

Edmund had just reached the door of his room when he heard footsteps running down the hall. He turned to see Susan, hair flying and face white.

"What is it?" he exclaimed.

"Corin! He's gone!" Susan panted. "I went into his room, the window is open and he's gone! Oh Edmund!"

Edmund pounded down the hall to Corin's room. It was dark and the breeze ruffled the drapes on the window.

"He must be in the house somewhere!" Edmund cried.

"No, no," Susan panted. "Loki and Corin were talking and Loki fell asleep against the door. He woke up when I tried to open the door, Corin was gone then."

"Where's Loki?" Edmund asked.

"I sent him to fetch Lord Peridan, Mr. Tumnus and Flavis," Susan said.

"Good," Edmund said, "Because we must go out and look for him. Susan, don't breathe a word of this to anyone. The Tisroc, and least of all Rabadash, mustn't know anything is amiss."

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry I haven't been able to answer all your reviews, I've had a lot of Doctor's appt.s this week, but I've read them all and appreciate them much. This weekend I shall reply.

I will leave you with this, don't lose hope. As Edmund said, even a traitor may mend. :) Peter will say later in my story, 'Hope is a waking dream'. I think it is.

~Psyche


	39. Is Explained

Is Explained

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><p><em>We learn more by looking for the answer to a question and not finding it than we do from learning the answer itself. <em>

~ Lloyd Alexander

* * *

><p>Corin hadn't meant to run away. In fact, he hadn't run away at all. He'd gotten lost and was rather unhappy about it.<p>

"I'd like to box Prince Rabadash," Corin had muttered to Lord Peridan as they left the banquet.

"So would I," a voice said and they looked down to see Loki, he'd followed them, he explained, the banquet was getting entirely out of hand. Loki had been thoroughly disgusted with all things Calormen even before they arrived. He had only come because Shard thought it would be 'educational' and Loki wondered why he needed to be 'educated' at his age. He wasn't a puppy anymore.

Presently they reached their lodgings and Lord Peridan bid them goodnight and when Corin progressed down the hallway to his room Loki followed, talking about some smell he'd smelled earlier. Corin, who was quite interested, expressed his wish that he could smell as well, but sadly, Loki explained, with a hair of arrogance, Humans just don't smell as well as wolves do.

When they reached Corin's room, Corin leaped on his bed with particular energy and Loki dropped down by the door and laid his head on his paws.

"Loki," Corin said, watching the wolf with interest, "Have you got an _earring_?"

"I do." Loki said, raising his head ever so slightly, "It was presented to me by King Edmund. You can look at it if you like, you'll just have to take it out,_ I_ can't."

Corin slid off the bed and worked the silver earring out of Loki's ear. He held it in the palm of his hand and watched it glint in the moonlight coming through the window.

Corin was about to ask why Loki had gotten it when he realized that the wolf was asleep. It was that uncanny knack wolves had of making themselves go to sleep at the oddest moments.

Corin stood up and carried the earring to the window to see if he could see anything written on it in the moonlight. Holding it out, Corin saw that there was some imperfection on the surface that could be writing. Corin looked closer and saw indeed it was a word, but so fancy and scrolled that he could hardly make it out. '_Spy_' it said.

Perhaps it was because he was tired or because his hands fumbled, but the next moment, the silver earring slipped from his fingers and dropped, glinting, into the dirt of the road far below. Corin stood for a minute, staring open mouthed, and silently wondering how he managed to be such an idiot sometimes.

Corin looked back at the door, there was no going through it without waking Loki and he wasn't about to tell the wolf that he had just lost his precious earring. There was nothing for it, but to climb out the window and he did so, as quietly as he could possibly manage, the whole time staring at Loki, willing him not to wake.

The house was constructed with a lot of convenient toe holds on the way down, but Corin, even though Edmund himself had taught him to climb, knew that getting back up was going to be next to impossible.

Then catastrophe struck. Corin, reaching for a toehold, found nothing, his fingers slipped and he felt himself hurtling through space. Fortunately, he had gotten most the way down already and when he landed, he only got the wind knocked out of him and he was left gasping like a fish in the dirt.

When he got his breath back, Corin remained lying on his back, staring up at the window and expecting Loki's head to appear. As the seconds slipped by and there was no sign of life, Corin breathed easier and sat up.

"Some watch dog he is," He thought as he stood up.

The earring was exactly where Corin had seen it fall and breathing a sigh of relief he picked it up and slipped it in his pocket.

The next step of course, was to find a window he could get into, make it back to his room and explain what happened. There was a window right in front of him that would do quite well and Corin slid up the sash and slipped in.

It was almost quite dark in there and Corin tripped over something and would have landed on his face had he not collided with something soft and yielding. It smelled distinctly like the kitchen and he realized it was one of the cooks, staying up late, getting breakfast ready for the morning. Corin decided at once that he'd stumbled on the pantry.

Corin was just about to ask the way to his room when the cook shouted at the top of his lungs: "Thief! Thief!"

And, Corin saw a meat cleaver come gliding through the air, gleaming in the moonlight.

Corin hurtled back through the window like a startled rabbit and ran for dear life. He heard a crash as the cook followed and Corin doubled his pace. He'd run away from plenty of cooks, but never a one with a meat cleaver.

~o*o~

When Corin finally stopped to catch his breath, he realized that he was quite lost. The cook had stopped chasing him a while ago, but Corin hadn't known that. Now at least, he knew he was safe. But how safe? Lost and alone in one of the most dangerous cities in the world.

Well, he wasn't going to stand here and feel sorry about it. He put a bold face on and started in the direction he thought he had come. He was in a dark and dirty alley and when he came out on the main road, he saw the temple of Tash far above him, gleaming in the moonlight. He knew if he went towards it, he would be going in just about the right direction.

Getting back would take forever. The night traffic was, if anything, worse than the day traffic. The only thing that made it better, was that there were no Tarkaans and Takheenas galloping through on litters or horses and making all the ordinary people jump out of the way.

During the Tashbaan nights, all the merchants and vendors brought their produce in, to be ready for the shopping day. So there were a lot of shouts, creaking carts, camels making strange noises and horses almost blasting out your ears because they whinnied right next to your head.

It was in an especially traffic filled part of the road that Corin found himself shoved against a house and he darted to a side street to stand until it had passed. He almost collided with another boy.

"Hey!" the boy exclaimed. "Watch where you go, you lout!"

Corin was determined to act like a prince and not lose his temper, "I'll ignore what you just said if you can tell me the way to the street of the visiting foreign dignitaries."

"Why do you ask?" the boy asked and Corin saw that he was missing most of his teeth.

"I'm with the Narnians," Corin said.

"Oh, well, you can tell your queen Susan, daughter of a dog, that she'd better marry our prince!"

For the first time in his life, Corin saw red. It was as if he was wearing glasses with red lenses, it was so pronounced. When one sees red, one tends to lose his temper, and Corin lost his. He charged the boy and knocked him down.

"You take that back, you little sniveling wimp!" Corin yelled, rubbing the boy's face in the dirt. The boy's elbow got Corin in the ribs and then he managed to squirm free and run for it. Perhaps Corin wasn't so far off when he called him a wimp.

Corin turned back to watch the never-ending parade of carts and camels and humans.

A moment later Corin was startled to feel a hand laid on his shoulder.

"Did you beat up my little brother?" a raspy voice said in his ear.

Without thinking, Corin grabbed the hand and flipped whoever it was over his shoulder. There was nothing to it, really, one only had to find the fulcrum and the rest followed. Peter taught him so well that Corin was able to flip the High King's two hundred plus pounds easily over his shoulder and only be laid up with back problems for a week.

Corin found himself looking down at a boy, rather bigger then himself, blinking dazedly up at him.

"How-how'd you do that?" the boy's big brother spluttered.

"Quite easily," Corin said, stepping back, "Now will you stand up and fight me like a man or will you run off like your little brother?"

The boy's big brother lunged and grabbed Corin by the ankles. Properly, Corin ought to have expected it and sidestepped, but he hadn't really practiced it, instead, he found himself on his back staring up at snarling older brother.

Corin smacked him in the face and jumped to his feet. Big brother wacked Corin in the eye and Corin punched big brother in the stomach. Big brother doubled up and Corin stood by, victorious while big brother stood up again, moaning.

"You little-!" Big brother, when he felt better, lunged at Corin and Corin jumped back. The next moment little brother came back on the scene and grinned evilly at Corin.

Two against one wasn't fair and Corin ran.

Corin was a good runner, but the other two were also and they followed him until he collided with three shadowy figures in the darkness. Corin tried to get away, but the three shadowy figures happened to have spears and one had the back of his collar. Corin pummeled the one that had him until another knocked him down and sat on him.

"What's this?" the man asked, "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" Corin asked in return.

"We're part of the watch, our job is to see that trouble makers like you don't make trouble…now what did you steal?"

"I didn't steal anything," Corin said haughtily.

"What were you running from?"

Corin said nothing.

"Ah! What's this!" one of the watch said, picking something up. Corin saw with horror that it was Loki's earring.

"Give that back!" Corin shouted, "It's not mine!"

"Aha!" the one who was sitting on him said, "So you did steal something!"

"I did not! Now let me go!" Corin cried. "Give that back!"

"I think I'll just keep it," the man said, dropping the earring in his pocket. "We'd better lock him up, what say you?"

Therefore, the three men with spears picked him up and made him march in front of them out into the main street. Corin thought of running for it and he knew he could do it, but then he would be minus Loki's earring and he wasn't going to return without it.

They were just passing a house, with the door wide open and the inside brightly lit. The sign over the door told that it was a winery. Corin suddenly had an idea.

"How would you each like a dram of beer or wine?"

"I don't mind if I do," said one and the others agreed. So they entered the wine shop and Corin dipped into his supply of silver trees and ordered each man three mugs of fig wine.

Corin sat with them for about an hour, ordering them more wine when they wanted it and watching the eastern sky outside the door grow light. The three men had drunk fifteen mugs of wine between them before they were snoring on the counter.

Corin fished Loki's earring out of a pocket, winked at the waiter and trotted out of the winery.

* * *

><p>AN: Um...I think its probably a little late to mention this, but Miniver said I should probably tell you all that the two themes in this story are horses and the color green.

~Psyche


	40. Gemini

Gemini

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><p><em>The world only goes round by misunderstanding. <em>

~ Charles Baudelaire

* * *

><p>It took all night to get into Tashbaan. Part of that time, they didn't travel at all. The caravan stopped at the side of the road to give the animals a rest. Aravis didn't know she'd fallen asleep until she was woken up again by Bree whinnying as loudly as he could. It was rather deafening.<p>

They started again, moving forward at a snail's pace.

"They really ought to have travel regulations," Aravis said haughtily, "They do in Azim Balda."

"Where's that?" Shasta asked.

"The capital city of Calavar of course," Aravis said.

It was just before dawn when they reached the gates of Tashbaan. Then they all halted for a while, because the main gates were always closed until dawn. Then a great low, thundering sound, not unlike that of an alp horn, echoed throbbingly off the water as the gates began to open.

Then the caravan started forward again.

Once they were in the city, Shasta and Aravis dismounted and Bree directed them by nudging Shasta with his nose. They left the caravan behind and proceeded through the city on switchback roads, always leading up.

Shasta stared with awe. He had never been in a habitation any bigger then a mud hut and to see all this splendor so close together and so beautifully wrought was almost too much. The part of the city that they were in wasn't nearly as beautiful as farther up, but he didn't know the difference.

He glanced at Aravis and saw that she had a rather odd expression on her face.

"What on earth's the matter?" he asked.

"Oh, it's all right for you! What would you care?" she exclaimed, "But I? I ought to be carried on a litter with soldiers and guards, going to a feast at the Tisroc's palace perhaps (may he live forever)…not on foot in the dust like this."

"I don't know why you'd care either," Shasta said, "We neither of us are going to be here much longer."

As they got farther up, there were only houses on the right side of the road and the left side looked down on the roofs of the houses below. The temple of Tash was closer now, and the Tisroc's palace. They could even smell the perfume of the hanging gardens.

Father up, more and more Tarkaans and Tarkheenas stopped up traffic entirely when they went by on litters with their entourage. Shasta thought it was annoying, Aravis thought it was beautiful (She was still daydreaming about it), but we shan't know what the horses were thinking because they wisely didn't say anything. Though, from the tilt of Bree's ears, he didn't think much of it.

It was on a wide, shady street with one side all lined with statues of Calormen military leaders that they heard a crier coming and everyone tried to get out of the way.

"Way! Way! Way!" they could just see the crier's head bobbing through the crowd, "Way for the White Barbarian King, guest of the Tisroc (may he live forever)! Way for the Narnian Lords!"

Watching that mass of humanity splitting apart and trying to make room was like watching the parting of the Red Sea. Shasta found himself punched, kicked and jostled. He lost hold of Bree when the horse reared backwards and Shasta found himself standing right in the front with a lovely view of the Barbarian King and his followers.

This newest party was unlike the others Shasta had seen earlier. There were no litters or horses, everyone was on foot and the crier in front was the only Calormen of the group. They all had light skin and many of them had fair hair. They were all wearing fine northern clothes, the like Shasta had never seen before. They all looked as if they might be very nice, except they all looked very serious and rather tired and the leader of them, a tall dark haired man, who Shasta surmised to be the barbarian king, looked worried as he scanned the crowds on either side of him.

The next moment Shasta's eyes met those of the king. The king's eyes widened in surprise and he walked quickly forward and caught Shasta by the arm. Shasta could tell by the set of his mouth that the king was very angry and Shasta could not imagine what he had done to vex him.

"Corin, you idiot!" the King exploded, then continued in a much quieter voice, "What could have possessed you? Running away like that? Susan is distraught, we've been out all night looking for you!"

The rest of the Narnians gathered round, some were beginning to smile. Shasta looked around at them, wondering how he was going to tell them that he wasn't the person they were looking for. He thought of telling them that he was just Shasta, Arsheesh the fisherman's son, but then they'd all be wondering how he'd gotten there and that would have ruined everything for the others too.

"Thank the Lion," one with dark hair said.

"Yes, Peridan," the king said, "Thank the Lion. I'm actually glad to have the scamp back again. What would I have said to King Lune if we'd returned without him? I don't think he could have born to lose another son."

Then with Shasta amid them, the Narnians turned around and started back the way they had come, Shasta looked back once and just saw Bree staring after him, eyes wide and white rimmed.

"Corin whatever possessed you?" The King asked again. "And today of all days! Do you know how dangerous it is? I charged you never to leave our lodgings without one or both of Peridan or Flavis! How could you have thought it up? First stowing away on the Black Swan and now this! Sometimes I wonder if you are more trouble then you are worth!"

"I-I didn't," Shasta said lamely, the last thing in the world he wanted was this fine young King thinking ill of him.

"What didn't you?" the King asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I-I don't know." Shasta replied and felt every inch an idiot.

"This hangdog silence does not fit a king's son; it resembles more a Calormen slave." The King said angrily. "But never mind, I don't want to hear about it, I don't want to see you again for a long while."

Quite suddenly, they stopped outside an iron gate in a tall whitewashed wall. A heavy vine covered with flowers hung over the top of the wall. The doormen, bowing low, opened the gate and Shasta felt himself propelled into the courtyard. A little deer darted from in front of them and vanished behind a tall green hedge. A large fountain in the middle of the courtyard laughed merrily as the water sparkled in the sun. Shasta thought he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

Shasta was led through a shadowy door into a hallway that seemed very dark compared with the blazing Calormen sun. The cold stone floor at least felt lovely on his burning feet.

They reached the end of that hallway and the King opened a door and pulled Shasta through it. Shasta found himself in a large room, held up with columns and lined with couches on all sides, a large blue tiled fountain was in the middle of the room, there were feathery palm plants in pots and a small lioness was rubbing herself on one of them.

The room was filled with people, lovely ladies (all the gentlemen seemed to have been out with the king), dwarfs, a large bull dog, a raven, two wolves. There was a most magnificent creature that completely took Shasta's breath away, it was a creature, half man, half horse. Standing next to it was a less magnificent, but equally as interesting creature, half man half goat.

Shasta saw them only for a moment, for a lady, tall and beautiful, ran to him, threw her arms around him and cried her heart out.

"Yes Susan," The king said, "We've brought the little scallywag back to you."


	41. Out of the Bear's Den

Out of the Bear's Den

* * *

><p><em>Be not afraid of the king of Babylon, of whom you are afraid; be not afraid of him, says the LORD: for I am with you to save you, and to deliver you from his hand.<em>

~ Jeremiah 42:11

* * *

><p>With the sun finally out and lighting up the world Corin finally knew exactly where he was. He'd been down this street half a dozen times or more with Flavis or Peridan and even Edmund. With surety in his step, he started back up the road, knowing that he'd be back in less than five minutes. He wondered if he'd been missed and decided that he probably hadn't. Then he remembered Loki and decided that he probably had. Well, they needn't worry; he was going to be back, Loki's earring and all.<p>

He knew he shouldn't, but he felt rather proud of himself.

True to his prediction, Corin arrived outside the house they were staying in exactly four and a half minutes. Now the only thing to be done was to find a low window into a room that wasn't occupied.

~o*o~

When Corin had run away, Edmund had been angry and deathly worried. He remembered years before when Corin was only five that he had run away in a strange city and Edmund and Eustace had barely found him. The last thing he had wanted was for that to happen again. Now they had found him, but something odd was going on. When Edmund had first spotted Corin he had acted almost as if he didn't want to come and now, as he stood in front of Susan, he acted bewildered and almost lost.

Edmund's anger turned to fear and he wondered if something had happened to change Corin. It couldn't be, simply not possible…and yet…

"Oh Corin! How could you!" Susan said, her hands on Corin's shoulders, "What if Edmund had never found you! It would almost have been a cause of war between Narnia and Archenland, which are friends time out of mind! Do you not realize how dangerous it could have been?"

"I-I don't know," Corin stammered.

"Don't be alarmed Susan," Edmund said, "I could get nothing out of him. He's like a clam."

"Your majesties!" Mr. Tumnus stepped forward, "Your majesties, Prince Corin has a touch of the sun, look at him, he is dazed, he does not know where he is."

Susan put her hand to Corin's forehead and found it very hot indeed, "Oh Corin!" she said, her brow creasing with worry.

"Bring him something cold to drink, hurry!" Susan brought him to a couch and made him lay down on it.

"How long has he been in the sun, Edmund? Do you know?" Susan asked, turning to Edmund.

Edmund shrugged, "probably since it rose, at least it isn't the hottest part of the day."

Clyte returned with an iced sherbet in a golden cup and gave it to Corin. He stared at it wide eyed for a moment, almost as if he had never seen the like before, and began to sip it slowly.

"Now," Edmund began, "I have something to say…Peridan, look to the door and see that no one is listening…good." Edmund took a breath and everyone leaned closer. "The Queen's grace, has decided that she will not marry Prince Rabadash."

A general sigh a relief echoed through the room and everyone looked much happier then they had looked in a long time.

"The trouble is this: how are we to leave the city?" Edmund said, "We are here on the Tisroc's grace and to put it frankly, I believe that if the Queen refuses Rabadash then we are all dead men, prisoners at least."

Susan sank onto a couch, "Edmund! I had no idea that our situation was so dire! You think he might make me his wife by force?"

"I do," Edmund said. "Or slave. I never thought about it before, but Rabadash, being a prince probably already has a harem."

"Begging your pardon Sire," Lord Winston said, "but the High King would never suffer such an outrage. Eh woof."

"Perhaps he would not," Edmund said, "But Narnia is but a little country in comparison with Calormen. The Tisroc has no reason to fear us. For many years he has wanted Narnia, he plotted with the Witch for it and now perhaps if he can seek a quarrel with us then he could make one mouthful of Narnia and Archenland both. That's why I was so worried when you went missing, Corin."

"Edmund!" Susan exclaimed, "You thought this all out before, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me! I feel I have been so blind!"

"I thought perhaps you would discover it on your own, sister. I do hate to cause you pain, that is one of my flaws. I should have spoken earlier, I realize that and it will be my fault and mine alone if anything should happen to us."

"No Edmund!" Susan reached out to take his hands, "It is my fault that we are here in the first place! I should have seen through Rabadash when we were still in Narnia!"

"No one saw through Rabadash while we were in Narnia," Edmund said, "he is the master of cunning, it is almost as if he was another person here in Tashbaan."

"He is a foul rouge," Flavis, the centaur, said, stamping a hoof, "We all should have known."

"True friend," Edmund said. "But it will serve no purpose deciding whose fault it is that we are here, we can speak of that later. What we must know now is how to get out of his city without getting our throats cut."

"Can we go across the desert?" A dwarf asked. "The gates to the desert are not as secure as the gates to the river."

"See a bear in his own den before you judge him."

Edmund looked up at the deep voice in the corner, "We're off that subject, Chester."

They all almost felt that they saw the shadow in the corner move as the bat shrugged. "Beg your pardon."

"It's no use trying to cross the desert," Edmund continued, "where would we get horses? Where would we get provisions? We might as well make a try for our ship as that, but they won't let us out of the gates unless we have some practical reason and we certainly can't waltz up and tell them we're running away."

Mr. Tumnus, who had been standing by Prince Corin had turned very red and he began to dance about as if his feet were on fire.

"Mr. Tumnus!" Susan exclaimed rising to her feet, "What on earth is the matter?"

"I was just thinking!" he grabbed his horns, almost to keep his head from popping off…then his face cleared, "our goal is to get to our ship?"

"Yes of course," Edmund said, "Once we are on our ship I have no doubt we could outrun anything they send after us. It must be entirely secret though, so they won't lower the boom across the river."

"Well then," Mr. Tumnus said, "How would it be if we made it known that we were having a great banquet on the _Black Swan _tomorrow night? We would invite all the highest tarkaans, and Rabadash of course, and let it be known that Queen Susan may be weakening towards him. Then all day today, we would be going to the bazaar, ordering things as if we were going to have a great banquet- "

"Then we would all be onboard tonight- " Edmund was smiling.

"And slip our anchor- " said Lord Bruin.

"Exactly!" Exclaimed Mr. Tumnus, "I see it all now!"

"You are a genius, Mr. Tumnus!" Susan exclaimed.

"It would be possible to cross the desert," The bat in the corner was speaking again and Edmund glanced up, half annoyed as it continued, "if we started at the Tombs of the Ancient Kings and flew straight as an arrow towards the double peak of Mount Pire, then we would come across a narrow gorge and a tributary of the winding arrow river. It would lead us all the way to Archenland with plenty of water. I have flown over the desert many times."

"Chester," Edmund said, speaking slowly, "We are off that subject."

"Beg your pardon again, sire," the bat said in a monotone, "It's not my time of day."

A servant girl knocked on the door and told them brunch was ready, so everyone filed out of the room, leaving Corin alone.

"I'll bring you your own little feast," Mr. Tumnus said over his shoulder to the prince, "Just wait right there."

~o*o~

At that moment, the real Corin was scaling the wall up to a window on the second story he was dead sure was empty. He picked that particular window because there was a handy rose trellis leading all the way up to it.

He had no trouble getting though the window, because it was conveniently open. He swung one leg over the sill, then the other, slid into the room and stopped…the room wasn't as empty as he expected it to be. There was a boy, about his own age, sitting on one of the sofas, wearing very ragged clothes and a turban.

"I say!" Corin said, walking towards him, "Who are you?"

"Shasta…well, nobody really," the boy said, "You're Prince Corin, aren't you?"

"The one and only," Corin said, grinning.

"Well they thought I was one for a little while," Shasta said. "Do you think I could get out the way you got in?"

"They thought you were me?" Corin asked. "Well I do suppose we look a bit alike. I say! What fun being mistaken for each other! Pretty larky!"

"Not fun at all!" Shasta exclaimed. "If Mr. Tumnus comes back in and finds us both here together…how do I get away?"

"Oh don't go off in such a hurry!" Corin exclaimed. "I don't know anything about you! If we look so much alike, we ought to at least know who the other is before you go."

"But I don't know who I am," Shasta said. "I'm an orphan actually and I'm trying to escape to Narnia with a talking horse named Bree and I must get away or they'll leave without me!"

"Well I'm pleased to meet you," Corin said, "I do hope you get to Narnia safe. If you ever run across my father, King Lune, tell him you're a friend of mine. Now there's a rose trellis all the way down this side of the house…I say, is there anything to drink?" Corin asked seeing an empty silver cup on the table.

"No, I drank it," Shasta said, "I'm awfully sorry. Oh, I ought to tell you, you're leaving tonight on your ship, but I'm sure King Edmund will tell you everything."

"Leaving today?" Corin asked. "I say, Shasta, why didn't you just tell them who you are? For that matter you could come with us."

"I couldn't possibly have told them!" Shasta exclaimed. "I heard all their secret plans, they wouldn't have let me out of this place alive!"

"You must not know us very well," Corin said, "King Edmund wouldn't have killed you!"

"Maybe he wouldn't," Shasta said, not at all believing him and going to the window, "Good bye, anyway."

"Good bye." Corin said, then added, "I do hope we meet again! When you go north, go to Anvard and ask for me…look out, I hear someone coming!"

Shasta dropped out of view below the window and climbed down as fast as he could. Someone, indeed, was coming. Corin craned his head out the window until Shasta's tousled head vanished around the corner, then he turned as the door opened. The last person on earth Corin expected to see came through that door.

It was Prince Rabadash.

* * *

><p>AN: Da, da, da, dun! Listen to Beethoven's Fifth at this time...


	42. Oh, Aravis!

Oh Aravis!

* * *

><p><em>Remember, people will judge you by your actions, not your intentions. You may have a heart of gold – but so does a hard-boiled egg.<em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>Aravis had never been so shocked in her life as she was when Shasta was carted away by the Narnians. For a moment, she wondered if there was something he hadn't told her about himself, but she decided that was nonsense. She stood for a while, trying to rack her mind for what they ought to do. Somehow they had to get Shasta back, but she didn't have the faintest idea as to how.<p>

Bree and Hwin were having a conversation with wickers, flicks of their ears and grunts. Aravis longed to understand what they said. The next moment she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Aravis! Darling!"

Aravis looked up into the eyes of a girl she had grown up with, perched on a litter. It was Lasaraleen Tarkheena. Aravis hadn't even seen her come.

"Aravis!" Lasaraleen's voice split the air again, "Where _have_ you been? Your father has been searching everywhere…you there…" she batted one of the slaves carrying her litter with her fan, "…you there, do stop, I'm trying to speak to the Tarkheena."

Aravis grabbed the edge of the litter and tried to pull herself up. One of the guards stepped forward to intercede, but stopped when he saw that Lasaraleen was helping her.

As soon as Aravis was in the litter, she pulled the curtains closed.

"Oh Aravis!" Lasaraleen exclaimed, "Must we have the curtains closed? I just got a new dress, do you like it? It's all the rage because the Barbarian Queen is wearing the same style."

"Oh do shut up for a moment!" Aravis hissed in a fearful whisper, then decided to risk it, "I'm running away."

"How perfectly riveting!" Lasaraleen exclaimed.

"It's not at all," Aravis whispered, "promise me that you'll hide me and not breathe a word to anyone, especially _not _my father. Please? We were always _such_ good friends!"

"Of course!" Lasaraleen exclaimed, "you can come to my house. My husband is away for today and won't be back until tonight. No one need know about you. Where are you running away to? This is _simply_ exciting!"

"I'll tell you about it later," Aravis whispered, "Now you must get me out of this street and those two horses," Aravis swept the curtain aside and pointed out Bree and Hwin, "You must bring them along. They are vital."

"Very well," Lasaraleen said, "Forward! And you there," she pointed to a slave following them, "Lead the Tarkheena's horses, that big grayish one and the little reddish one…yes, that one."

Aravis leaned back on the scented cushions for once not thinking about anything.

"Oh darling," Lasaraleen said, laying back next to her, "You must tell me all about yourself! I say, you do smell horrific…I know I have so much to tell you! You can't imagine where I have been!"

"I'm sure I can't" Aravis said, dryly.

"Guess! Try to guess!"

"Um…the Tisroc's palace (may he live forever)?"

"No silly, though I have been there!" Lasaraleen said, "It's such a lovely place! And the gardens! Anyway, I've been to Narnia!"

"Narnia!" Aravis exclaimed sitting up with a jerk, she heard one of the slaves grunt as the litter bounced on his shoulder.

"Yes!" Lasaraleen said, "It's really lovely there! The High King is lovely and King Edmund is lovely. Cair Paravel is lovely. Though I don't believe the queens are so very pretty even though everyone says they are. But everyone always says queens are pretty even when they aren't, so I oughtn't to pay any mind oughtn't I?"

"No, I'm sure you shouldn't," Aravis said. "Tell me more about Narnia, please? Why did you go?"

"My husband accompanied Rabadash on his trip there to court Queen Susan and of course I went along too. Everyone says he's madly in love with her. They're in the city now, didn't you know?"

"Yes," Aravis said, "I did know."

"How _do_ you manage to know everything, darling?" Lasaraleen asked, "I think that much knowledge would make my head hurt."

"I think it would too," Aravis agreed primly. "But look, how are we to conceal the fact that I'm here? Tongues will never stop wagging about how you picked up a girl dressed as a beggar's wench in the street."

"Don't worry about it, darling, you do look rather dreadful, but once you are properly dressed everything will be quite all right."

Aravis moaned and lay back down on the pillows, her brain trying to filter out Lasaraleen's shrill voice as she went on incessantly about dresses and styles and shoes. She was finally put out of her misery when the litter was lowered the ground and Lasaraleen pulled the curtains aside and stepped out into a shady courtyard. Aravis hurried after her.

"Remember to tell them not to say anything about me!" Aravis hissed in Lasaraleen's ear.

"Oh yes! I'd forgotten all about that," Lasaraleen said, then looked around, "Here, all of you! And you doorkeeper! No one is to be let out of the house today. And anyone I catch talking about this young lady will be first beaten to death and then burned alive and after that be kept on bread and water for six weeks. There."

Aravis rolled her eyes and followed Lasaraleen into the house.

* * *

><p>The moment Shasta's feet touched the dirt he ran.<p>

Perhaps that boy, prince Corin, was it? Would change his mind and send guards after him, or maybe someone else would come back and discover he was gone. Prince Corin certainly couldn't pretend to be him with that black eye…he wouldn't anyway.

Shasta was used to running. He'd always had to come running whenever Arsheesh called and endless hours of riding had hardened his muscled like nothing else. He had to stop once to get his bearings. He knew he'd have to go down into the city before he could make his way to the desert gate. He was fairly certain he could find the way. Running again, Shasta wove his way through the crowds. He was glad of the excellent balance he had gained while riding and also glad that he was skinny for his height.

The crowd moved like a living thing, a great serpent winding its way through the city. Shasta bumped into some people, shoved others aside and began to get a cramp from running so soon after eating.

Shasta stopped, winded, and leaned against a house, gasping for breath.

"Oh, it's you again."

Shasta looked around again to see a short, wiry boy, with and black eye and missing most of his teeth, looking up at him evilly.

"Um…" Shasta said, "I don't know what you're talking about. I've never seen you before in my life!"

"Liar!" The boy spat, "You knocked out one of my best teeth this morning!"

"I didn't!" Shasta exclaimed, "I don't know what you're talking about. Can you tell me the way to the desert gate?"

"Still asking for directions, are you?" The boy said, "Well, I'm glad you're lost!"

"I say," Shasta said, "That's hardly fair!"

In reply, the boy socked him the mouth and Shasta, if he hadn't been standing against wall, probably would have fallen over. As it was, he got a nasty clip on the back of the head and his mouth felt numb.

Feeling quite satisfied the boy walked away and Shasta stared after him, bewildered as the pain came. Cautiously, Shasta felt his teeth; they were all there still, though a bit loose. He had been hit much harder than that by Arsheesh and his teeth had always mended again.


	43. A New Horizon

A New Horizon

* * *

><p><em>Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.<em>

~ Matthew 5:14

* * *

><p>The moment they were in the house, Lasaraleen hustled Aravis to her chambers. Aravis was given a long, luxurious and scented bath that lasted about an hour, then another two hours were wasted looking for a proper dress for her to wear. By that time, Aravis was positively faint with hunger. So Lasaraleen brought her to a lovely sort of shaded patio and ordered lunch.<p>

Only after it arrived and they started eating was Aravis able to tell Lasaraleen about her plans.

"I'm trying to escape to Narnia," Aravis said.

"Fancy?" Lasaraleen said, popping a grape in her mouth, "Have I told you that I've been there before?"

"Yes you did," Aravis said and wished that Lasaraleen's pet monkey would stop chattering.

"Did I?" Lasaraleen asked absently, "Did I ever tell you about my new-"

"Do be serious, Lass!" Aravis cried.

"Serious about what?" Lasaraleen asked, yawning.

"Serious about how I'm going to get out of here without anyone noticing," Aravis said.

"Oh yes, I _do_ see your problem," Lasaraleen said, "You know dear, while you were in the bath I received a dinner invitation from the Narnians. They're having a banquet on their yacht tomorrow night."

"That's very nice…"

"But I shan't go," Lasaraleen continued, "I get dreadfully seasick, darling. The trip to Narnia was _too_ horrific."

"But it's in the harbor!" Aravis exclaimed, "I've seen that water myself, it's still as glass!"

"It doesn't matter," Lasaraleen said, "I still get seasick and I'm horribly afraid of fish."

"Anyway," Aravis said, "What _am_ I to do?"

"Well, what do you want to do?" Lasaraleen asked.

"I want to get to the Tombs of the Ancient Kings-" Aravis began.

"But _darling!_" Lasaraleen exclaimed, "It's _haunted_! They say that the dead walk at night!"

"Even so, I must go there," Aravis said, "Hopefully Shasta will have gotten away and I can meet him there."

"But think of it darling!" Lasaraleen cried, "It's not _nice! _You have no idea what sort of person he is. He might slit your throat in the night!_"_

"He's not that bad," Aravis said, "Really."

For a moment, she thought of Shasta, quiet and thoughtful, then Lasaraleen giggled, wiping the image away.

"Anyway," Aravis said, "What am I to do? Could I be carried out of the gates in a litter?"

"Litters never go out of the gate to the desert," Lasaraleen said, "But I _do _know a way. There is a little water gate down at the end of the hanging gardens. If we go there at night no one will see us and I'm sure there is a little punt or something no one will miss."

"And my horses?" Aravis asked.

"Oh yes, I had forgotten about them," Lasaraleen said, "Do you _need _the horses?"

"Of course!" Aravis said, "Both of them are vital! How else would we get across the desert?"

"Well," Lasaraleen said, "I suppose no one will notice a war horse and a lady's riding horse being led out of the desert gate by a groom."

"I suppose not," Aravis said.

"It's settled then," Lasaraleen said, "You know, I don't believe I've ever thought up something like that before."

"Can we go tonight?" Aravis asked.

"Oh no," Lasaraleen exclaimed, "I'm having a banquet tonight. Actually I ought to pick out my dress now…do come and help, darling, you always did have such a good taste for style."

"You're having a banquet tonight?" Aravis gasped, "_Here_? Who's going to be there? Other than you."

"Oh _everybody_, darling! Didn't I tell you about it?" Lasaraleen asked. "Abdullah planned it all yesterday. Your father and brother are coming."

"Father? Horeb?" Lasaraleen's head reeled as she clutched Lasaraleen's arm, "You won't give me away! You _promised_."

"Yes, I did promise," Lasaraleen said. "You'll be perfectly all right if you stay up here."

* * *

><p>Shasta started running again. For some reason it was easier to run then walk. He wondered if the others had reached the Tombs of the ancient kings. It was beyond the desert gate, that's what he'd been told; it was a great temple, carved into the Valley of the Kings.<p>

So he ran on, dodging the crowd, though it began to thin as he neared the desert gate. Then, oh joy! Ahead of him, he saw the desert gate, wide and waiting for him! He redoubled his pace and desperately hoped the others were waiting for him.

As he neared it, he fell into somebody's shadow and tried to look ordinary. No one noticed him as he slipped by, no one asked for identification. Then the gate was behind him and ahead was the bridge leading over the river.

Shasta went to the side and leaned over, staring down at the silent water and wondered if the reflection looking back up at him really did look like Prince Corin, at least a little. For a moment he thought about them. They'd be getting away tonight. He'd seen their boat himself, anchored on the shelf; it had looked so safe and noble, what would it have been like to sail away on it? What if Prince Corin hadn't come back after all? But no, that was too awful to think about, Corin was a prince, he would know nothing of Calormen ways, Shasta at least, if they didn't make it away, would know how to fend for himself, alone, forgotten.

Shasta looked back at the city rising into the sky. What if they didn't make it away? What if Aravis had been caught by her father? What if Bree's old master found him?

Shasta squared his shoulders and turned away from Tashbaan. _Don't think_, he told himself, _just do it, you've got to make it to the Tombs, nothing else matters now_.

He reached the end of the bridge and stopped wondering what to do next. It certainly didn't look like a desert to him. Villas rose on either side of him, there were palm trees and fresh grass and not a grain of sand in sight. He could at least feel the hot breath of the desert, even if he couldn't see it. Ahead of him, impossibly high on the horizon were the mountains of the North.

A road extended straight ahead of him, and he took it, he feared it would be a long bit of walking before he reached the Tombs and he wondered if he could ask directions to it.

A bit ahead, a cart was on the side of the road, its wheel off and its driver laboring to mend it.

"Excuse me?" Shasta said.

"Oh," The driver looked up, 'You boy, come and hold this wheel steady, will you?"

Shasta stepped off the road, took a good grip of the iron wheel hub and held it steady as he could. At once, the driver was able to slip the iron spike that held the wheel on in place.

"Reckon it was good you happened along," The driver said straightening, "I've been trying for hours to get that back in. Is there anything I can help _you _with?"

"Um, rather," Shasta said, "I'm looking for somewhere…the Tomb of the Ancient Kings."

The driver raised an eyebrow.

"I'll be passing it," he said, "Hop in the cart; I'll take you a pace."

Shasta clambered up to the seat on the wagon, careful not to put his foot on the pin of the newly mended wheel. Clucking to his horse, the driver turned the cart around and started the horse at a smart clip up the road.

"Begging your pardon, boy," The driver said, "But what do you want with that place?"

"I want to see it," Shasta said. That was true enough, at this moment, there was nothing he wanted to see more short of Bree, Hwin and Aravis.

The driver shrugged his broad shoulders, "Some folk are odd."

The horse swung around a corner and Shasta caught his breath, quite suddenly, the houses ended and before them lay the desert, rolling away almost forever in great golden dunes whipped into fantastic shapes by the wind and unmarred by any living thing. Beyond the dunes were the mountains, purple mist, some topped by white and one, the tallest split into a double peak.

A voice echoed in Shasta's head, the voice of the Bat.

"_It would be possible sire," _The bat had said_, "if we started at the Tombs of the ancient kings and flew straight as an arrow towards the double peak of Mount Pire, then we would come across a narrow gorge and a tributary of the winding arrow river. It would lead us all the way to Archenland with plenty of water. I have flown over the desert many times_."

That was their way then, toward Mount Pire.

"There's Mount Pire," the driver said, "Double peak."

Shasta flinched, wondering if the driver had gone in for mind reading.

"I've heard that a great enchantress lived in Narnia - that's the place beyond those mountains- and she turned a great giant named Pire to stone…ah, here we are, boy."

Shasta looked to see a road to their left, leading around an outcropping of rock.

"Just go down that road, boy," The driver said, "The Tombs will be right in front of you, you can't miss it."

"Thanks very much!" Shasta said, slipping down from the wagon.

"Thank _you_." The driver said, "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't happened along. So long."

Shasta waved, then started down the road. It sloped downhill sharply, then kinked to the right. The next moment, Shasta saw the valley spreading out below him and in it, the Tombs.

Bree had been quite right, when he had described it looking like a temple. It rose in two tiers, carved out of the rock. It was very old and the roof had fallen in.

Shasta, as he approached, was surprised to see that there were people at the temple. There were great statues, perhaps twenty feet tall, stiff and ancient looking. The people were bowing before them and leaving baskets of food at their feet.

Shasta slipped into the shadow of one of the columns supporting the temple and watched. Then, curiosity overcoming him, he asked another boy what was happening.

"Leaving sacrifices," the boy said, "to appease the ancient gods."

"But what about Tash?" Shasta had squeaked.

"Oh, yes," The boy had said, "But we're leaving sacrifices to _them_ just so they won't be angry. Just in case, you know. Everyone does it."

Shasta got up and made his way up the ramp leading to the second tier of the temple. It had a grander façade then the last, two great stone cats were guarding the doorway, or at least there should have been two, one of them had been knocked down and was long since missing.

Shasta went through the entrance and found himself in a great courtyard. Columns, that had once supported the roof, but had tumbled down, were strewn everywhere like blocks after the child has gone to bed. Shasta revolved slowly, looking up. The place was truly impressive still, even though it was only half there. There were great statues of sphinxes and gods with heads like hawks and jackals. The reliefs carved in the walls depicted people wearing strange headdresses, some dancing, others riding in chariots and all very stiff and noble.

With a sigh, Shasta turned back to the doorway and started back down the ramp to the lower level. He was surprised to see that all the people who had been making sacrifices were gone now, or just leaving.

He looked back at the doorway he had just come through and was struck that something was not as it should be. There was something wrong with the cats…that was it, there were two of them and just a moment before there had been only one and the other had been shattered on the ground. But wait, the other _was_ still shattered on the ground. Puzzled, Shasta stepped closer and was shocked to see that the cat in question had raised its paw and was licking it with great ceremony, then it stood, and stretched, jumping gracefully to the ground. It came walking down the ramp, rubbing Shasta's legs in a flurry of softness.

"Hello, cat," Shasta said, and followed it down.


	44. Out of the Hat

Out of the Hat

* * *

><p><em>Here then, as I lay down the pen and proceed to seal up my confession, I bring the life of that unhappy Henry Jekyll to an end.<em>

~ Robert Louis Stevenson

* * *

><p>"Prince Corin," Rabadash said and made a slight bow.<p>

"Prince Rabadash…" Corin trailed off.

"Your highness," Rabadash said, "Can you enlighten me as to where King Edmund may be?"

"I don't know," Corin said, "I only just arrived myself."

Rabadash's eyebrow twitched up in question and Corin almost felt nostalgic. He hadn't seen Rabadash make that particular expression for a long time…since Narnia.

"Perhaps you might tell me where he _may_ be?" Rabadash asked. "Surely you know where he spends most of his time? I have a matter of pressing importance that I must unfold to him."

Corin shrugged, "Maybe they're are eating lunch...actually, that sounds like a jolly good idea…"

Rabadash actually grinned, then grew serious again, "I _was _hoping to converse with him privately."

"I suppose I could go find him and tell him you're here…"

"I would be deeply indebted to you!"

But at that moment, they heard footsteps in the hall and the door opened. They both turned to see who it was.

"Edmund!" Corin exclaimed. He didn't really know what else to say.

"Corin?" Edmund stood in the open doorway, staring at Corin and taking in his black eye and torn and mud caked clothes, "What did you do to yourself?"

"I had a fight with two boys in the street and some men called the 'watch' during the night. I say, I didn't mean to run away. I dropped Loki's earring, then the cook chased me with a knife and I ran like fun...I climbed through the window just now," Corin paused, "I say, what's wrong?"

"Then that wasn't you before?" Edmund asked.

"I should think not," Corin said, "I talked to him myself and I don't tend to make a habit of talking to myself."

"Then the other boy…who was he?" Edmund asked, his face turning pale, "_Where_ is he?"

"He said his name was Shasta," Corin explained. "He said he was going to Narnia with a talking horse. I have no idea where he is."

Edmund reached out and closed the door behind himself, then for the first time noticed Rabadash, who had been concealed behind the door when it was open.

"Wha- " Edmund began.

"Sire," Rabadash knelt on one knee and kissed Edmund's limp hand. "I am here to warn you of great danger and beg your forgiveness and the forgiveness of your dear sister. I have played the part of a coward and villain and if you kill me now you shall be perfectly right and just. I will, with a high head and happy heart, bear any fate you choose. I am loathed to think of the harm and suffering I may have caused."

There was silence.

The birds were singing; they could, if they had been listening, have heard them outside, trilling brightly.

Edmund stood staring, open mouthed, he felt the world spinning in wide illogical circles. First two Corins…now this…what next?

"I think you had better explain yourself, Rabadash," Edmund said slowly.

"Of course," Rabadash said, standing up. "I should perhaps start from the commencement; to begin with, I'm not Rabadash."

"You're not Rabadash?"

"No," Rabadash, now officially _not_ Rabadash, said. "I'm not Rabadash, though I realize that I bear a salient resemblance to my contemptible relation."

"If you are not Rabadash," Edmund said, "Pray, who are you?"

"I am Tamash, older brother of Rabadash, my mother was a much lesser and rather ostracized wife of the Tisroc (may he _not _live forever).Therefore, I am the least of my detestable father's despicable sons."

"Oh," Edmund said brilliantly.

"Now I must tell you of my misdeed, though I loathe it," Tamash said. "My brother, Rabadash, is the most indolent of man. He heard of the great beauty of Queen Susan, and wished to have her for himself, therefore, he sent me to Narnia in his stead…" Tamash raised his hand as Edmund began to speak, "before you think completely ill of me, let me explain. My brother has great power and authority. He has used me for many years to do his work for him and I have no say in the matter. If it were my life alone, then I would have thought nothing of going against his will, but for the past years, he has blackmailed me with the life of my sister.

"Now my father, the Tisroc, did not know of Rabadash's using me and just yesterday, he married my sister to a Tarkaan of a distant province, the wedding you yourself attended, sire. Now my sister is safe and my brother has no power over me, so I came immediately this morning to confess all my wrongs and also tell you of a scheme Rabadash has thought up.

"I was with my brother when he received your invitation to a banquet on your ship tomorrow night," Tamash continued, "he planned, that if your sister did not accept his suit then, he would have you all surrounded by guards and kept in custody. I suppose he plans to blackmail your sister as he blackmailed me."

"A remarkable story," Edmund said. "Now that I look at you, I see you are not Rabadash, notwithstanding you are very similar. But how can I trust you?"

"I suppose you can only have my word," Tamash said.

"I suppose…" Edmund said, "Would you tell me…about Narnia?"

"Gladly," Tamash said. "I think it is the finest place I have ever set foot. What specifically would you have me tell you?"

"About the summer festival," Edmund said, "Do you recall cauldron pool?"

"With loathing," Tamash replied. "I rejoice to think of your dear sister alive and well still, despite all that happened there."

"What happened to my sister?" Edmund asked.

"I could never forget!" Tamash exclaimed. "She was bitten on the hand by a green serpent. I remember your sister Queen Susan tore a strip from the hem of her dress and tied it about Queen Lucy's arm. Then you rode yourself to save her."

"What horse did I ride, do you remember?" Edmund asked.

"My own stallion, Ashquar," Tamash said. "Does your sister still have him? Has he mended? I suppose he will never run again like he used to, but I believe he served his purpose exceptionally well."

"Yes, she does still have him," Edmund said, "And last time I heard he was her favorite horse."

Tamash smiled, "I am glad to hear it."

"What is the weathervane on top of the stables in Cair Paravel?" Edmund asked suddenly.

Tamash smiled, "A grasshopper."

"Well, Tamash," Edmund said, "Now that you have enlightened me on something that has been bothering me for a long while, what do you plan to do? You must know that you forfeited your life coming to us."

"And it was gladly done," Tamash said, "I am willing to die if I only can save other lives."

"Your unselfishness puts me to shame," Edmund said, half smiling, "but how would it be if you came with us? I think Narnia would be glad to have you back again."

"Come with you?" Tamash asked, puzzled.

"Yes," Edmund said, "To all the world we are having a banquet tomorrow night, but it is tonight that we will be on our ship and by Aslan's grace we will get away. The tide and wind our both with us. Praise the Lion that I anchored in the outer harbor instead of the inner one."

"Sire," Tamash said, "Your generosity is beyond all comprehension! I would be honored and grateful to come…that is, if you sister, Queen Susan will forgive me as you have."

"I have a feeling she will," Edmund said, smiling. "But I'm not sure if she'll forgive Corin…running all over the city."

"Pretty larky," Corin said, grinning.

~o*o~

Susan did forgive Tamash, in fact, as she explained later, she hadn't even time to blame him, so forgiving was out of the question.

Corin sat on the edge of the main hatch on the main deck of the _Black Swan_ and rubbed away at the brass handrails with a rag dipped in brass polish.

Susan had been the next to come in the room and had been quite shocked to see Tamash and even more shocked to see Corin with his black eye. She ignored Tamash entirely, but insisted on knowing why Corin was injured. She didn't believe a word of the story he told her and was convinced he'd fallen and hit himself on the table. When Edmund and Corin were finally able to make her understand, something dreadful happened. Corin wasn't sure whether it was called 'fainting' or not, but fortunately Edmund was there to catch her.

When Susan came to again, she started babbling incoherently about someone named 'Cor'. Corin asked who 'Cor' was, but Edmund stayed mum.

After that, Corin was hustled away by Lord Peridan and Flavis. They had no trouble at all getting down to the _Black Swan;_ even the guards at the gate knew about the banquet tomorrow night.

When they had rowed to the ship, Corin was put aboard and charged to stay aboard. Lord Peridan handed him the brass polish and Corin went to work.

That's why Corin was sitting on the main hatch, polishing the handrails as if his life depended upon it. He'd already done the brass fittings for the compass in the binnacle and some cleats in the deck.

Corin was startled out of his reverie by a soft thump on the side of the ship's side. He went to the rail and looked down to see Flavis standing grimly in a dory that stood dangerously low in the water. Corin hated to smile, but Flavis, like any normal horse, couldn't climb a rope ladder and had to be hoisted aboard in a process that only Flavis could have pulled off without looking silly.

They couldn't use the davits, which are cranes on the ship's side, used for hoisting the ships boats in and out of the water, because the boats had to be lifted manually off the davits and anyone knows you can't lift a centaur. So they borrowed an older idea and rigged up a sling hanging from ropes secured to the main top.

It took about half an hour for them to fasten the sling around Flavis and, with six man turning the windlass and singing a sea chantey, swing him up on deck. By that time, a dory containing Edmund, Susan and Clyte was a few yards away. Edmund backwatered gently with the oars keeping them at a good distance to view the hoisting of Flavis in its entirety.

"I know I'm being used for entertainment," Flavis said, the moment his hooves touched the deck.

Lord Bruin laughed, "Good to have you aboard sir," then turned to the rail as Susan threw a coiled painter to him. He belayed the rope, then threw the rope ladder down to them.

"You men," Lord Bruin turned to the sailors that had hoisted Flavis aboard and pointed to the dory trailing alongside, "unload those boxes, smartly, now."

Edmund was the first up the rope ladder, then turned to help Susan and Clyte.

"Bruin," Edmund saying, "How are we with water?"

"Good, sire," Lord Bruin said, "Half the tanks are full."

"It'll only take three days to get back anyway," Edmund said.

Corin slid off the main hatch, clutching brass polish in one hand and rag in the other.

"Susan!" he called, "Susan, is there anything for lunch?"

* * *

><p>AN: Miniver at least will recognize the name of this chapter. :)


	45. The Eyes of the Cat

The Eyes of the Cat

* * *

><p><em>Still with unhurrying chase and unperturbed pace<em>

_Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,_

_Came on the following feet, and a Voice above their beat:_

"_Nought shelters thee who wilt not shelter Me."_

~ Francis Thompson

* * *

><p>The day dragged on. It was hot. It always seems hotter when you're motionless on the water, with the glare on the harbor and the deck burning under your feet and the pitch bubbling from between the planks in little black beads. It wouldn't have been half as bad if they were actually sailing.<p>

Under the sweltering heat, some sailors manned the capstan and raised their main anchor and chain to the cathead. This left the lighter kedge in the mud at the bottom of the harbor, attached to the ship by a light warp. Now the ship was left to swing in wide circles in the tide. Edmund had decided to raise the main anchor now because the chain made such a rattle coming up. The rope on the kedge would make minimal noise.

The ship's company was increased by five souls; the two gladiators, Susan _had _set them free, but they had begged so adamantly to be allowed to come along, that they were coming. Dara was coming, she didn't have any relations in the city, of course Tamash was coming and Sheba, Susan's little lioness was already draped across a coil of rope in the sun.

They also had to stow away a lot of stuff that Rabadash had given them during their stay. Edmund grumbled that they didn't have room onboard, but Susan said they did and it would be a waste to leave it behind. There were thing like precious and semi precious stones, gold trinkets and jewelry…things Susan decided would go very well in the royal treasury.

It was about three o'clock that Lord Peridan and the rest arrived from the bazaar. All day they had been hiring musicians, buying food and seeing to everything that needs seeing to when one hosts a banquet. After that Susan, Edmund, Lord Peridan and a few others went back to their lodgings in the city and tried to act normal for a few hours. But it was just before the gates closed for the night that they were safely back onboard the _Black Swan. _

Being summer, it wasn't really quite dark when Edmund threw the coiled painter up on deck. Corin, who hadn't even heard them coming, was quite startled when it landed at his feet.

"Ahoy there!" Edmund's hoarse whisper came from over the bulwarks.

Corin belayed the painter to a cleat and leaned over the bulwarks to look down at them.

"Well, get us the rope ladder!" Edmund hissed.

Corin grinned, then tossed the rope ladder over the side. It landed on Edmund's head and he looked murder at Corin.

While they were climbing up the ladder, Corin looked up at the city, rising before them, almost impossibly high, the top, dark in the dark sky. They were leaving at last and it was good.

In the distance, the deep solemn sound of the trumpets for the closing of the city gates echoed over the water towards them. The sound put shivers down Corin's spine. It seemed to sum up everything Calormen in his mind, great, impressive yet far deeper and darker than you would ever expect.

"Sire," Lord Bruin spoke softly in the darkness.

"I want all lights out," Edmund said.

"Aye sire," Lord Bruin said.

Corin tore himself away from the view to go into his cabin and blow out a candle he had left burning there. He found himself nervous for the first time in his life. He sat down on his bunk and looked out his porthole at the dark water of the harbor. Long lines of bright reflections striped the water under the brightly lit customs building.

Corin felt something hard deep in his pocket and he shoved a hand in to find out what it was. It was smooth and when Corin pulled it out he was at first puzzled as how it came to be there. 'Coca Cola' it said in large graceful letters and Corin remembered picking it up at the bazaar. He wondered if it were some implement in a strange cult.

He looked at the bottle thoughtfully, held it up to the light, somehow it seemed to have some sort of brown mist in it. Corin tried the lid, it was down quite firmly, he pulled a knife out of his pocket and pried it loose. It landed on the bunk next to him.

Corin stared at the bottle in shock, two tiny hands had appeared at the mouth, straining. Slowly a tiny head followed and looked Corin in the eye. In fact, it was a little man and he swung around until he was sitting on the lip of bottle, his legs dangling into the neck. He was very oddly dressed. A white stovepipe hat perched on his white hair, there was a band of blue with white stars around it. He wore a blue frock coat, a red bowtie and red and white striped hose.

Corin in truth had never seen anyone quite like him.

"Aloha," The little man said.

"Hello?" Corin replied, vaguely wondering if the little man spoke a foreign language, "are you a dryad?"

"No, certainly not," the little man seemed insulted, "I'm a genie."

"Oh," Corin said, "I'm Corin."

"Swell!" The little man said, "I'm Uncle Sam."

"I thought you said you were a genie…" Corin said, puzzled.

"I am," Uncle Sam said, "But my name is Uncle Sam…" He paused, "Some people call me Yankee Doodle, though."

"I beg your pardon," Corin said, "what's a genie?"

"A genie is a guy who can give you wishes."

"Truly?"

Uncle Sam nodded.

"Then I can wish for something?"

"It just hasta be in my book," Uncle Sam said.

"Can I wish to be in Narnia?" Corin asked.

Uncle Sam shook his head, "That's not in my book. Try something everyday like a catcher's mitt or a box of Post oat nut flakes."

"How about pie?" Corin asked.

"Consider it done!" Uncle Sam exclaimed. He closed his eyes and waved his arms so rigorously that Corin was afraid he might slip back in the bottle. "As American as apple pie!" he concluded.

Nothing happened.

A moment later Corin found himself sighing, though he didn't know what he was sighing about.

"Rats," Uncle Sam said, "I put the wrong ingredients in; I gave you a sigh instead of a pie."

"Oh well, don't let's do pie," Corin said, "It's a bit messy anyway, tell me where you're from."

"Pearl Harbor, actually," Uncle Sam said, "I moved there last year because in 1941 they're going to have a date that will live in infamy and I don't want to miss it."

"Oh," Corin said, bewildered.

"You know," Uncle Sam said, "I'm pooped, I haven't granted a wish for a long time, and granting a wish really drains you. So if you don't mind I'm going to turn in. it'd be swell if you'd put my cap on."

Corin stared while Uncle Sam slipped back into the bottle and vanished. He picked up the cap from the bunk and pushed it down on the mouth of the bottle, then put the bottle back in his pocket.

* * *

><p>All this time, as the sun had seemed to grow larger and the sky had turned bloody red, Shasta had been sitting with his back to a half broken column, watching the cat. It sat bolt upright a few feet away, fixing him with its golden eyes. He tried calling to it, trying to get it to come, but it watched him with almost a curious look.<p>

Thoughtfully, Shasta reached into his pocket and drew out his old ribbon, pink now and faded. Moving very slowly, he slid it across the sand in front of the cat, daring it to chase the fraying end. The cat watched it, only its golden eyes moving. The rest of it was as still as the other cat, the statue that guarded the entrance of the temple.

Then, moving so quickly Shasta barely saw what happened; the cat seized the end of the ribbon with a paw and swept it out of his hand.

"Come back, cat!" Shasta cried and stumbled to his feet in shock as the cat trotted away, the ribbon fluttering from its mouth. Shasta bolted after it, but as he ran, the cat ran faster and seemed to enjoy just twisting out of his grasp. At last, the cat trotted up the steps of the temple and flopped down on its side in a place still warm from the sun. Shasta picked up the ribbon where it lay and put it back in his pocket, then very gently, he rubbed the cat's ear and the line of khol that turns every cat into an exotic beauty. He felt a steady vibration under his hand and he looked down in wonder.

"I suppose that is what they call purring," Shasta said to the cat, "I've never gotten this close to a cat before, believe it or not. Where I come from they're always half dead, mangy things and I used to kick them out of the house before they came anywhere near. We had lice enough as it was. Ouch!"

The cat had scratched him, claws drawn out.

"Well what did you expect me to do?" Shasta asked irritated, as he licked the blood from his arm, "take care of every last old cat that came through the door? It wasn't as if it were you."

The cat cocked his head and looked deep into Shasta's eyes – those eyes, those beautiful, deep, far seeing eyes of the Cat.

"Don't be silly, of course it wasn't you," Shasta said, feeling strange at the mad idea that came into his head, "Where I lived was too far south. You must be quite a traveler if you were the same cat."

The cat's gaze did not waver.

* * *

><p>It was about an hour later that a sailor began to hoist the jib. It flapped impatiently in the wind as the peak climbed the foremast.<p>

"We only want enough sail to keep her head away from the wind and have steerage way," Edmund had said.

Edmund himself cut the anchor rope, a sailor jumped to harden the jib sheet and the Black Swan began to move. After a bit of discussion with Lord Bruin, Edmund decided that it would be quieter to simply cut the rope instead of manning the capstan, making a racket and being caught. The kedge would easily be replaced.

The _Black Swan _was moving faster now; she had slid out of her place and was passing a merchant ship that had been moored several yards astern of her.

There were lights in the cabin of the merchant ship as well as a riding light in her stern. The _Black Swan _was operating in absolute silence, there were only a few people allowed to speak and never above a whisper.

In a few minutes, they were out of the harbor, into the main part of the river, and they raised the staysail. Now the wind caught her and she heeled over sharply. The music of water was under her forefoot. It was almost as if she knew she had to escape from there as quickly as possible and she was doing her upmost under the miniscule amount of sail she was under.


	46. Phileo

Phileo

* * *

><p><em>Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero.<em>

~ Marc Brown

* * *

><p>That evening, Aravis sat upstairs, listening as Lasaraleen's guests arrived. She heard talking and she went to stand hidden at the top of the stairs to catch her brother's beloved voice as he was ushered into the banquet hall by Abdullah. She saw her father and with a sudden pang, realized that his beard had grown whiter since she had seen him last. She wondered how her brother Birol was, wondered if the pigeon was nesting again in her window box, wondered if the sun shined the same way through the stained glass windows in the dining hall, wondered if the desert roses still bloomed over her mother's grave.<p>

Abruptly, she turned away and made her way back down the hallway, her heart very heavy.

She spent some time in a back alcove, looking over the harbor, playing absently with Lasaraleen's pet monkey. The little thing chattered and swung among the gauzy curtains, throwing shadows on the wall as Aravis ate the supper brought up for her by a slave. Aravis stood, she could see mooring lights of many ships that lay on the water and vaguely, she saw one without lights moving silently amid the shipping, white sails glowing softly in the moonlight.

With a sigh, Aravis turned and looked back into the room. She was more worried about Shasta than she cared to admit. He was a dirty peasant boy, but he had become part of her journey and the idea of him missing from it was very strange.

Restless, Aravis wondered back down the hallway and stood again at the top of the stairs, but she could not pick out Horeb's voice from the jumble that came from the open door of the banquet hall. She knew Lasaraleen's house a bit from the last time she had been there and presently, she was going down a back staircase, down a hallway and though the door that connected with the stables.

It was very dark in there, but Aravis found Bree and Hwin in adjacent stalls, sniffing about on their stall floors for any oats they might have dropped. In eating, talking horses are quite as messy as ordinary ones.

"Hello, horses," Aravis said softly, Bree's head snapped up and Hwin's a moment later.

"Oh there you are," Bree whispered, "I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever see you again, is that chatter box going to give you away?"

"I _hope _not," Aravis said, "I've sworn her to secrecy and she thinks it's some kind of frightful joke, but she never _can_ keep a secret…anyway, we've made a plan for getting away. You two horses will be led out of the desert gate tomorrow afternoon and I'll follow in the evening via a water gate Lasaraleen knows in the palace. I do hope everything will turn out right and I hope Shasta has had the sense to go straight to the Tombs and wait there."

"He will have," Bree said, "but the palace, will no one recognize you?"

"I surly hope not, but we'll be in the old palace mostly and no one ever goes in there except for special occasions," Aravis said, "I'm going to be dressed as a slave girl and Lasaraleen is going to pretend I'm a gift for one of the princesses that she's quite chummy with."

"That sounds good enough," Bree said.

"Hardly," Aravis snorted, "Lasaraleen dresses her slaves in the most nauseating colors; I'll be in a disgusting shade of pink."

Bree snorted a laugh, "I was wondering why all the grooms were dressed in that shade of green, it almost hurts my eyes."

"Mine too," Hwin added, "How many provisions will we need to cross the desert? And how will we find our way?"

"Well, we'll need a good deal of water and food, you'll have to manage that, Aravis," Bree said, "And I suppose our direction will be due north as always."

A saddle that Aravis recognized as Hwin's lay on its bow in the corner next to Bree's saddle. As she walked over to them, she wondered why they had not been hung up in a tack room. She turned Hwin's saddle over, looking for the saddle bag. Her brother's knife was in it and suddenly, she wanted to look at it. She unbuckled the straps and felt inside. Something hard struck her fingers and as she drew it out, she saw that it was not her brother's knife.

It was a little statue with four legs and little curling horns and almost at once, she recognized it as the little wooden goat that Shasta had carved what seemed so long ago. But why was it in _her_ saddlebag? Had he meant to give it to her, yet wondered if she would accept it?

Suddenly, she felt tears blurring her eyes, all her emotions had been building up and this finally broke the dam.

"I'm as stubborn as a goat, aren't I?" she whispered, clutched the little statue. Oh yes, she had been so high and mighty, so condescending, yet despite it all, he had given her a bit of himself and it was a far nicer self than hers. He had not snubbed her or looked down on her. Now she suddenly realized that she had nothing but her past now, she was not a whit better than Shasta.

"Aravis!" Hwin hissed, "Somebody is coming!"

Aravis only had time to look up before the door of the stable opened and a dark shadow slipped into the corridor. Fumblingly, the newcomer lit a lantern and held it up, the rays fell full on her where she crouched in the corner and they stared at each other for a full minute.

"Aravis!" Horeb cried.

"Please, please don't tell my father!" Aravis pleaded, rising, "If you ever loved me, forget that you saw me. Please!"

"Aravis, what are you doing here?"

"I'm running away."

"Where do you think you can go?" Horeb asked, stepping closer, "You can't stay in Lasaraleen's house. Father and Ahoshta have search parties out everywhere. They will find you."

"I'm not going to, I'm leaving tomorrow. Promise me you won't tell our father."

"Aravis, where are you going?" Horeb asked quietly.

"I'm going to Narnia." Aravis whispered.

Horeb set down his lantern and held out his arms to her, Aravis ran to him, tears running anew down her face. She felt as though she had been torn into a thousand pieces.

"I have just come from there," Horeb said gently. "That is where Prince Rabadash went earlier this year."

"You have _been _there?" Aravis whispered. "What is it like? Is it beautiful?"

"It is beautiful," Horeb said. "The people are kind and the kings are good. I think you will be very happy there."

"Then you will not tell Father?"

"I will not," Horeb said, holding her at arm's length, "I wish you the luck of the gods."

"Thank you," Aravis said quietly. "I will miss you."

"And I will miss you, my sister." Horeb said, "Now I came down here because my horse did not seem to be feeling himself on our way here and I was worried about him."

They both turned to look at Horeb's charger where he stood in a stall next to Bree's. Horeb stopped short.

"Is that not the warhorse of Anradin Tarkaan?" He asked, puzzled. "I could have sworn it was the same horse…his steed went missing three or four weeks ago. It was his pride."

Bree looked extremely intent on his hay while Aravis racked her mind for something to say to repeal her brother's idea.

"In fact, I believe I will ask him," Horeb continued, "He is here today."

Bree's head snapped up in alarm.

"No!" Aravis cried, "I am sure it is not the same horse at all. This one…this one is different…I am sure this one is different."

Horeb looked at her intently, "You have not taken to horse steeling?"

"No!" Aravis said vehemently. "Not at all. Were you not going to look at your own horse?"

"Yes," Horeb went into his horse's stall, still looking at Bree thoughtfully. Carefully, he inspected his horse, feeling its withers and legs and at last, lifting each hoof.

"Here is the trouble," Horeb said triumphantly, "he has a stone wedged in his heel between the shoe and the frog. I do detest these triangular horseshoes. Would you believe sister, that they do not use triangular horseshoes in Narnia? They shape them to the horse's hooves."

"How peculiar," Aravis said glad at this new subject, "Yet it does make sense."

Horeb came out of the stall again, holding the stone up; at last, he put it in his pocket and turned to Aravis.

"Farewell sister," he said at last, "I shall go back to the banquet and I will say nothing to our father about you or to Anradin about his horse."

"Thank you, brother," Aravis said quietly, "I will never forget you."

"Nor I, you." Horeb said, "Perhaps someday I may visit Narnia. I will try to find you."

He left her with the lantern and closed the door softy behind him. Aravis knew that she would never see him again.

Bree let out a long sigh and pulled at another bit of hay.

"I always liked your brother," Hwin said quietly. "I know you will miss him sorely."

"Yes," Aravis said.

* * *

><p>For some time Shasta had been sitting next to the cat, half leaning on it. It was an unusually large cat, the color of the sand with dark tufts on its large far-hearing ears. Now they twitched towards a distant sound and Shasta looked where the cat looked, but saw nothing in the darkness. Time went on and at last, he heard the sound the cat had heard.<p>

It was like wild laughter, the sounds of a crazy man lost on the desert mixed with the rants and ravings of a lunatic. The sounds whooped and hollered, growing ever nearer and turning Shasta's blood cold as sea water.

"The jackals are out," Shasta said, but his voice sounded very small and weak in the dark and as he groped the night for the cat, he found that it was gone. "Cat?"

The jackals' eyes sparked like green fire, they were drawing closer, their eyes bobbing and jerking like disembodied spirits as they scented him and gave cry. Shasta sat frozen, his back against the foundation stones of the temple. He couldn't run, they would outrun him; he couldn't fight because they could outfight him. He could only sit and wait, listening to them laughing hysterically at his fate.

Then something dark blotted out the star spangled sky in his vision. He thought at first that it was a cloud, gliding across the heavens, but moonlight glowed on something huge and shaggy as it opened a huge mouth and roared.

The sound was like nothing Shasta had ever heard before. It shook the earth beneath him and one of the columns swayed against the stars, then fell with a rumble, massive blocks of stone bouncing and leaping about the desert floor. Shasta covered his head with his hands, cowering as the call of the shaggy beast died away. He heard footsteps, soft and muffled as velvet on the sand at the seashore and he knew _it_ was coming.

But just as he steeled himself to bear it, he felt something soft and silky sink down beside him and knead his arm to make a place for itself. Shasta put out an inquiring hand and the warm, quick head of the cat met his fingers.

Shasta looked up and the stars met his vision. The jackals were gone along with their wild laughter.

* * *

><p>AN: Like Miniver said, I don't think Calormens ought to be all bad, just as Narnians are not necessarily all good. Things tend to get typecast, like minotaurs and wolves. I think everyone has an equal chance. It's what _you_ do with your chance that counts.

~Psyche


	47. The Green Chapel

The Green Chapel

* * *

><p><em>Honor isn't about making the right choices. It's about dealing with the consequences.<em>

~ Marc Brown

* * *

><p>The next morning Peter told his host and hostess that he would be departing to keep his meeting at the green chapel. Since Baeth was still sick they prevailed upon him to leave him under their care until he returned. Grudgingly Peter agreed, as long as Glumkin stayed.<p>

Lord Xenon happily gave Peter directions to the chapel.

~o*o~

"I'm beginning to trust our noble host and hostess less and less as the time goes by," Peter said, throwing his cloak over his shoulders and turning to look at Baeth where he lay in his bed.

"I am perfectly well!" Baeth sat up and coughed.

Peter laughed and pushed him back down, "No you're not." He glanced over at Glumkin, "Both of you watch your backs. I hate to go, but I must, it's been two months time since first that giant came upon us eating dinner at Cair Paravel."

"What will happen to you there? Do you ken?" Glumkin asked.

"I hardly know," Peter said, "But I will not lightly misplace my head if that will ease your hearts."

"You'd better not," Baeth grinned in a ghastly manner, then coughed again, "you should have kept that green girdle."

"No, lad," Peter patted him on the shoulder, "I want no part in green magic."

~o*o~

Lord Xenon and Lady Kloris stood in the courtyard to see Peter off. He mounted Mystic and held him in long enough to bid his hosts ado. Then he turned the horse, gave him his head and galloped over the drawbridge. The hollow pounding of Mystic's hooves sounded like the thumping of his own heart.

"Easy, old friend," Peter whispered.

He leaned forward and patted the horse's neck, feeling the smooth power under the silky coat. It had been a whole day since the horse had had a good run and he needed it. Peter's hand wandered to the haft of his sword, Rhindon, his finger's running lightly over the facets of the ruby set in the pommel. He had his shield on his back, the shield emblazoned with a rampant lion, scarlet as the ruby.

They progressed back up the hill. At the top, urged by a sudden desire to see if it was still there, Peter pulled up Mystic and turned to look down at the castle. It was there, shrouded by early morning mist. A silhouetted deer moved through the dewy grass and disappeared into a body of trees beside the castle.

Satisfied Peter turned Mystic and continued on, wondering about the strange feeling that hung over him.

Mystic moved more slowly as the path grew narrower. Lord Xenon had told him that the chapel was carved out of the very crags at the top of the mountain. Peter rode on, the path winding through steep little gorges and out on narrow ledges with solid rock walls on one side and a sheer drop on the other.

Finally, turning Mystic up to the left, Peter saw the chapel.

It was old, very old, built of damp gray stone and perhaps called the green chapel because of the rich abundance of moss hanging from its moldering sides.

Peter dismounted, leaving Mystic ground tied.

There was no sound as he stood there, staring up at the chapel, no sound but the whistling of the wind, the same perhaps, that had long since blown out the windows. There was a faint, metallic sound of water dripping, dripping from the open mouths of the gargoyles.

Peter swallowed and walked forward. He paused before knocking on the rotting door. There was no reply. Reaching out, he pushed it open and stepped into the dark, musty interior.

The place was sobering, yet tragically beautiful in its own way. It had succumbed to time, yet its beauty was in its imperfection and decay. An ancient alter stood at the end of the chapel, its dark wood stained with water. There was a ragged alter cloth and two green candles, above them was an empty place on the wall, where some image had once hung.

Behind him, Peter heard a heavy tread upon the floor and he turned to see the green giant himself stooping to see through the narrow door.

"So you've come?" the voice bellowed through the room and the nose of a faun carved in the wall fell to the floor.

"I have." Peter said meeting the green gaze without wavering.

"Ha!" The giant echoed, "I'm surprised, well, come out of there, come out in the light where I can see you. It's my turn to take what it properly mine!"

Peter followed him out, out into the still gray light, the silent courtyard. The only spot of color was the old gold of Mystic's coat and the bright green trappings of the giant's horse. To the right of Mystic was a stump Peter did not recall being there before. As he approached it he saw that it was stained dark.

The green giant turned from his horse, a keen bladed ax in his hands. He nodded curtly towards the stump. Peter looked at it a moment, then knelt on the damp flagstones and laid his neck on the stump. He watched the green boots of the giant approach him and stand to his left. Then he heard the whistle of the ax blade descending down, down…

He closed his eyes, then heard the ax strike, the sound of splitting stone and he opened his eyes to see the ax, quivering in a cracked flagstone. With a grunt of vexation, the giant jerked it loose and held it aloft. Again, it whistled through the air, again, it struck the flagstones with thunderous force.

Angrily the giant pulled it loose and stared down at the nicked blade. Then he held it aloft and brought it down. Peter wasn't sure if he was surprised or not when the ax struck the flagstones for the third time. This time the giant did not attempt to pull it loose, but took Peter by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

"I can't do it," he said softly. "I can't kill my own king. If you'd taken the green girdle Kloris gave you, I could have, but now I cannot. You're a better man then I."

Peter stared, as the giant shrank slowly, until he was a little less then Peter's height. His features changed from exaggerated to normal. He was beardless and very young with dark hair and honest gray eyes. He was much younger then he had been, but Peter recognized him at once.

"Lord Xenon!" Peter exclaimed.

"The very same," Lord Xenon said. "You've broken my spell."

"I've what?"

"I have been in bondage for one hundred and fourteen years and you have broken my spell."

Peter sat down on the stump. "How?"

"I should perhaps tell it from the beginning."

"Fire away."

"You have probably wondered how it was that Jadis took Narnia so easily." Lord Xenon began, "I was riding one day and I stopped my horse by a fountain to let her breathe. It was there that I saw a beautiful young girl, all wrapped in green. She said nothing to me, only beckoned, then stepped behind a tree and vanished. I wondered about it, but told no one. I was young and foolish in those days. I went back to the fountain many times, each time, watching her beckon to me. Finally one day I was imprudent enough to follow her. She was nothing more than Jadis' slave; Jadis herself put me in a silver chair over which a great enchantment hung. The chair was of such a nature that after I was released from it I was forced to do the bidding of Jadis.

"Thence, I returned to Cair Paravel and did as Jadis asked; gathering in loyal Narnians to her dastardly plot. A host of her priestesses chopped down the Tree of Protection and later that same year, she invaded Narnia, taking it for her own. After that I remember nothing but vague shadows, I know I have been her loyal slave for many a year."

Peter stared at him, "You were King Xenon?"

"I was the King," Xenon said, bowing his head, "My folly was tenfold because of that."

"Your majesty!" Peter exclaimed.

"No, I am no longer," Xenon said.

"Once a King of Narnia, always a King of Narnia," Peter replied, "I believe you have more than paid for your folly."

"Perhaps it is so," Xenon said slowly, "Now, milord, I advise you to flee at once before you lose your life and your kingdom. Jadis and now Kloris have tried to kill you for many a year. She is a spider and has spun a web, even now your sister Lucy is in battle with the Telmarines and your brother Edmund and sister Susan are in grave danger in Calormen."

"It doesn't surprise me," Peter said quietly, his voice steady, but his heart twisting inside of him. He hesitated, then turned, "I must go back and find my friends."

"No, sire, I beg you!" Xenon exclaimed, "Save your life, I will do what I can for your friends."

"No," Peter said, "I promised them I would return."

* * *

><p>AN: See 'Under a Waning Moon' and 'Rendezvous with Death' in our stories for more on chopping down the Tree of Protection. They are both quite short.

~Rose and Psyche


	48. Vortex

Vortex

* * *

><p><em>Whirlpool<em>: A rapidly rotating current of water.

* * *

><p>The next day was torture for Aravis.<p>

It wasn't so much having to listen to Lasaraleen's endless prattling, having to try on this dress and that, getting her hair dressed in the latest style and listening to endless talk about the ball of the night before, no, that wasn't so bad, but thinking, worrying that her father might walk in at any moment, or worse, that the Grand Vizier might discover her and worse, far worse, wondering if Shasta had ever managed to get away from the Narnians, and if he had, did he go to the Tombs of the Ancient Kings? Did he wait there for them?

And what would happen once they had escaped? Would they make it across the desert? Would they find their way? And once they did arrive in the Narnia would they be allowed in? The horses would of course, they were _from_ there and Shasta was fair haired and skinned they would no doubt let him in for _that_, but her, would they let her in? She was Calormen!

Then she began to think perhaps she was an idiot after all. She should have just married the Grand Vizier and had done with it. He _was_ rich…what was it that Lasaraleen was saying? Bathes in asses' milk? Ropes of pearls? Gardens of a thousand perfumes? Then his ugly monkey's face and humped back would swarm into her vision. No, she was perfectly right; she'd die rather than marry him.

Never had it seemed so long for the sun to move across the sky, burning in blinding radiance. She marked the time when the horses were led out to the desert gate by the groom. Their saddlebags packed with provisions, water skins slung behind their saddles.

Then she had stood again, patiently, while Lasaraleen dressed her as a superior slave girl in a costume of revolting pink.

Finally, finally, the sun was dropping; the sky was glowing green-blue, peaceful, calm. The lights of Tashbaan were flickering into life, the sun slipped below the horizon, the sky dancing, brilliant gold and orange, before the sun was shrouded for the night.

The first stars pricked the sky. A shooting star darted across the heavens before fading like a dying match and Lasaraleen finally decided that it was time to go.

They went on foot.

"It's perfectly safe up _here_ you know," Lasaraleen giggled and Aravis didn't bother asking what she meant.

They arrived quite soon at the gates of the palace and Lasaraleen was allowed in at once. She was well known there.

The palace was a maze of corridors, great halls, miniature throne rooms, medium throne rooms, after dinner rooms, swimming rooms, before dinner rooms, tennis rooms and rooms for nothing in particular. Aravis' head was fairly whirling. She had been there once before of course, but she had been rather young then and instead of finding the palace not nearly as grand as she remembered as most people do when they visit a place after many years, she found it quite the opposite.

It was all a glow of gold leaf and sculpture, silver bowls and copper doors, so much in fact, that Aravis quite forgot her way and dearly hoped that Lasaraleen was as confident about the direction as she appeared.

Quite soon, they came out onto the hanging gardens and made their way down. It was quite dark then and Aravis forever after remembered nothing about it except stumbling about in the dark…and that smell, that heavenly smell!

Presently, Lasaraleen was hustling her through a door into a narrow hallway, explaining that they were now in the lower levels of the Old Palace. It was badly lit with torches only often enough that you could see the glow from the next when you stood by the last. It was quite a maze down there, doing a much better job of loosing somebody then anything you might find at Hampton Court.

"Don't tell me you're lost!" Aravis hissed in the darkness.

"Well I'm not really," Lasaraleen sounded rather bothered, "I'm just wondering whether its left or right from here, I think….no, I'm fairly sure…it must be left-"

She cut off because they both heard something that made their hearts stop; the sound of footsteps coming softly down the corridor behind them. Light streamed around the corner between long shadows and the next moment they saw two men holding candles, walking backwards.

"It must be the Tisroc!" Aravis whispered, "Slaves only walk backwards before _him_!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Lasaraleen squealed and Aravis put her hand over Lasaraleen's mouth and desperately hoped that the Tisroc would think it was a mouse, the slaves were deaf and dumb, so they wouldn't have heard.

Aravis groped behind her and felt a door; she lifted the latch and darted in, pulling Lasaraleen behind her.

"What if they come in here?" Lasaraleen squeaked.

"They _can't_, they _mustn't_," Aravis whispered fiercely. "Wait, there's a sofa here, let's hide behind it."

They were only just in time, for the door opened.

* * *

><p>It was a weary journey back down from the mountain. Xenon led the way on his chestnut charger and Peter followed, deep in thought. It began to rain, a chilling rain, which pierced to the very bones. Mystic's head hung low, his mane running with icy water. The narrow ledge they traversed turned to mud under the horses' hooves and the way was even more treacherous then it had at first been.<p>

Finally, as the valley opened before them, Xenon pulled up his horse sharply.

"What is it?" Peter asked quickly, but there was no need for a reply, for he saw for himself.

The valley was dark, the mist still rose, but the castle was gone. In its place was a smooth lake, its waters shining like silver, shirred by the soft rain. To the left of the shore four horses stood, their heads bent against the mist. Sitting among them was a small stumpy figure hunched in a miserable ball.

Peter kicked Mystic into a gallop and flew down into the valley.

"What happened, Glumkin?" He called, pulling Mystic up so quickly the horse almost sat on his haunches. Lord Xenon was a moment behind him.

"I don't ken!" Glumkin said, "One moment I was there, then I was here. I can't find Baeth."

They remained in silence for a moment, staring at one another's stricken faces. It was all too sudden, too absurd.

Xenon's horse, urged by the smell of water, stepped slowly in the lake and dipped his muzzle into the water. The next moment the horse's head shot up and a wide look of fear came to his eyes.

Peter was the first to see that the water of the lake was beginning to swirl around the horse's legs. The current grew stronger and stronger until it knocked the horse off his feet and threw him into the water. Like the eye of a hurricane, the middle of the lake sank into a deep whirlpool, drawing the struggling horse and Xenon, still clinging to the saddle, into its clutches, until the next moment they disappeared.

The lake smoothed out and the surface was quiet as a mirror.

"What shall we do?" Glumkin asked.

"Go after him," Peter said simply.

"We'll be killed."

"Somehow I think not."

Glumkin watched in horror as Peter rode his horse into the whirlpool. It knocked him down like it had Xenon and a moment more he disappeared into the eye of the whirlpool. A heart-breaking whinny echoed next to Glumkin and Ambyr, Peter's loyal horse, lunged into the waves, dragging the other two horses with him. Glumkin had snubbed the lead ropes to Ambyr's saddle, because he had seemed to quietest of the three.

Glumkin watched them disappear, then with a sigh, he urged his own horse into the lake. It was a bad idea, he was sure of it.


	49. The Ranting of the Rash

The Ranting of the Rash

* * *

><p><em>Rashness belongs to youth; prudence to old age.<em>

~ Marcus Tullius Cicero

* * *

><p>The fit behind the sofa, was, to put it lightly, unpleasant. Lasaraleen was a bigger girl then Aravis and, selfish in her fear, took most the space that was to be had. Aravis ended up with a small corner and there she sat, painfully curled up, but at least able to see as the two mute slaves entered the room and stood aside. The Tisroc was a moment behind them, rolling towards the sofa, his layers of fat joggling as he seated himself among the cushions.<p>

Prince Rabadash was next to enter. His face was quite white and he appeared rather angry. He paced the room, muttering to himself.

Aravis winced when she saw the next to enter. He would have been tall if his back had not been bent. It was her own betrothed, Ahoshta, the Grand Vizier. Ahoshta at once dropped to the ground on his knees and elbows, and plastered his face on the floor.

There was silence for a moment, then Rabadash spun around on the Tisroc, shaking his hands in the air.

"O my father, and O the delight of my eyes, may you live forever," He exclaimed, "If you had only allowed me to do as I requested instead of bidding me to inquire whether they had changed their anchorage! I know, with a fast galley I could have overtaken them! Now the day is wasted and the Barbarian Queen is beyond my grasp! They have tricked me and fled like cowards! Now my heart is broken!"

"The exodus of guests creates a lesion that is effortlessly renovated in the heart of a judicious host," the Tisroc said tranquilly, not at all concerned with his son's broken heart.

"But..!" Rabadash sat down quite suddenly on the bench Ahoshta had made of himself moments earlier. "I _want_ her! Can you not see that I _love _her! She had broken the greatest heart that as ever throbbed on this earth! False jade….barbarian dog that she is!" he added for emphasis. "I cannot eat or sleep because of the lack of her beauty!"

"My son," the Tisroc said, dryly, "I realize and understand that you have required this assemblage to divulge to me some plan or arrangement you have formulated. Tell me therefore what it is that you desire and propose."

"O my father and O the delight of my eyes," Rabadash began, "I desire and propose only this: that you summon your vast and indomitable armies and sweep the land of Narnia with Sword and Fire, killing and leveling the King and adding the land of Narnia, which I recognize, is fair and prosperous, to your unrestricted realm. In this way, I may gain the Barbarian Queen."

"O my son, this plan that you speak of is the plan of the rash and foolhardy," the Tisroc said, wiggling his toes thoughtfully, "Let it be known that no cause, no matter how large or unfathomable will ever prompt me to wage open war with the land of Narnia."

Rabadash leapt to his feet, his face varying between shades of red and white. He spoke dangerously low, "If you were not my father, O magnificent and ever living Tisroc, I would call your voice the voice of a coward."

"And if you were not my son, O imprudent Rabadash, your days would be numbered," the Tisroc said coldly.

The prince sat down again and this time Ahoshta made an audible sound as Rabadash's full weight came down on his misshapen back. Aravis was almost forced to feel sorry for him.

"O my son," the Tisroc said absently, "desist from resting yourself on the enlightened and venerable Grand Vizier."

Rabadash got up again and began to pace the room.

"O my father and O the delight of my eyes," Rabadash said turning, "Let me respectfully inquire _why_ you would not overrun the land of Narnia? It is an indecorous blemish on the periphery of your territory."

"Indubitably," the Tisroc said, "each day that passes, that the land of Narnia remains out of my grasp, is dark in my eyes."

"But _why_!" Rabadash almost jumping in the air, then added hurriedly, "O venerable and magnificent Tisroc, (May you live forever)."

"The land of Narnia is an indefinite and inexplicable constituency," The Tisroc said laconically.

"O vast and intelligent Prince," The Grand Vizier spoke for the first time, "Let it be known that until the year that the Tisroc (may he live forever) and your most generous father came to rule Calormen, the land of Narnia was covered with ice and snow and ruled by a most authoritative and ferocious enchantress-"

"This I know well," Rabadash cut in irritably, "I also am acquainted with the truth that the enchantress is vanished along with the ice and snow."

"This, O learned and wonderful Prince," the Grand Vizier added eagerly, "Has doubtless come to pass, owing to the most lethal and tremendous incantations of those wicked and detestable persons that currently name themselves the sovereigns of the land of Narnia."

"I do not believe that the Queen Susan is so utterly wicked as the others," Rabadash said thoughtfully, "nevertheless, I rather believe that the changes that occurred so suddenly and unexpectedly in the land of Narnia came to pass due to the passage of certain stars, namely-"

"This may be so, in part," The Tisroc said, "But I do not believe that an enchantress as powerful and inhospitable as the one that ruled the land of Narnia is so easily ousted. No, some strong magic must have been at work. It is already well known that demons in the shapes of beasts roam freely over the slopes of the land of Narnia and that evil sorcerer, King Peter (may the gods utterly and completely reject him) is sustained by a demon of most repulsive and objectionable form that appears in the shape of a lion. Consequently, the overrunning of the land of Narnia is a repugnant and no doubt ineffectual design. I will not put out my hand farther than I can draw it back."

Rabadash looked glum and sat down without thinking on the bench that had presented itself so handily earlier in the dialog. There was silence for a long while. Aravis could hear a cricket chirping in a far corner of the room and the ragged breathing of the bench under the prince.

"O my father and O the delight of my eyes," Rabadash said standing up again, "How would it be if you extended your hand, but only just far enough, allowing you to vacate unscathed if the endeavor should fail. And if it should _not_ fail, placing you at the very gates of Narnia."

"O my son, what is it that you propose?" the Tisroc asked. "For if you could deliver into my hand the land of Narnia, my days would be joyous."

"How would it be," Rabadash began, "if I and a company of horse departed this very night and rode across the desert. On the second morning, I should be in Archenland. I would fall upon Cair Anvard, taking it by surprise and overpowering the king. Instantaneously, I would ride over the pass to Narnia and fall upon Cair Paravel. The High King will not be there, for the Telmarines (May they succeed) are waging war on the western borders of Narnia. I should wait in Cair Paravel until Queen Susan, upon her fair vessel, puts into harbor, then swing her into the saddle and ride with acceleration back to Anvard-" he raised his hand as his father began to speak, "I would act with courteousness and discretion, spilling as little blood as possible, I would restrain King Edmund and spare his life, thus causing no quarrel between you and the High King."

"Your plan is resourceful and imaginative," the Tisroc said, "but how will I draw back my hand if you fail?"

"You would say that, because of my youth and young heart, I rode out without your knowledge and sanction."

"And if the High King demands his sister returned?"

"O my father, there is no great possibility of that," Rabadash said, "he will see that it is for the best, since his nephews and grand nephews will sit on the throne of Calormen. Even if he still is not persuaded, he is in no position to come in arms against Calormen to salvage her."

"It is truly said," the Tisroc murmured, then for the second time noticed Ahoshta on the ground, "O intellectual and enlightened Vizier, transmit your contemplations on this matter."

"O venerable and magnificent Tisroc (may you live forever)," Ahoshta said, "It appears to my simple intelligence that perchance the barbarians themselves would eulogize such a arrangement, as their poetry, unlike ours, is all of love and war, not full of useful maxims and choice apothegms. They are a hotheaded people and therefore, nothing would appear nobler than this enlightened enterprise."

"Well said, very well said," Rabadash said, "I see that jewels of wisdom may be concealed in a dunghill."

There were a few seconds more of silence, finally the Tisroc shifted among his cushions.

"O my son," he said, "go and do as you have suggested."

Rabadash stood staring for a moment, as if he could not believe what he had heard, then he knelt and kissed his father's hands.

"To hear is to obey!" he exclaimed, turned, tripped over the Grand Vizier, recovered himself and rushed from the room.

* * *

><p>AN: Ah, gentle readers I hope that this venerable and enlightened manuscript has not caused unwarranted hilarity, for its intention was to inculcate, not to entertain. We sincerely hope that this staid and weighty topic has been accordingly explained with acute lucidity.

~Rose and Psyche


	50. The Land of Wonder

The Land of Wonder

* * *

><p>…<em>A sojourner I have been in a strange land.<em>

~ Exodus 2:22

* * *

><p>Peter was absolutely certain it was a bad idea the moment his head went under. White water surged past him and Mystic panicked, striking toward the surface. The eye dropped like a black hole and the next moment he was falling. He heard a thud and he realized he had landed. The next moment an even louder thud echoed beside him and he very nearly had his head knocked off by one of Mystic's flying hooves.<p>

Then there was silence.

"Who's that?"

"Xenon!" Peter exclaimed. "Where are you?"

"I'm over here," came Xenon's voice, "Milord! Don't tell me you followed me down here!"

"I did. Stop calling me 'milord'." Peter said. "Where are you?"

"Over here," Xenon said again, "I'm pinned down by my horse and I will call you milord, you are the High King."

"I don't think it applies down here," Peter stood up and reached into the darkness. He was immediately struck firmly in the face by Mystic's head.

"Very glad to see you too, lad," Peter muttered, pushing the horse away. A head on collision with the very hard head of a horse is an unpleasant affair. Keeping his hands in front of him, Peter groped through the darkness. A moment later he touched a clammy stone wall.

"Where are you, again?"

"Here."

The voice sounded at Peter's feet and he knelt down and touched something soft. It was the horse. Finger's groping, he found the horse's eye and touched the cornea; there was no reaction.

"I think he's gone, poor lad," Peter said, "Must have broken his neck in the descent."

"He was a good horse," Xenon said sadly. "The only true friend I had."

The next moment a tremendous crush of water fell on top of them. When it cleared, they heard several shrill whinnies and the sound of stampeding feet.

"By the Lion's mane, what is it?" Xenon asked.

"Don't know," Peter replied, "Sounds like the whole cavalry."[OG1]

"Who goes there?" Xenon called into the darkness.

A faint whinny answered him.

"I don't think it speaks Narnian." Peter said.

Suddenly water poured down on them again. It wasn't as much as last time.

"If that happens again I'll catch a cold," Xenon muttered.

"Sire?" a voice echoed towards them.

"Glumkin!" Peter exclaimed.

"Aye, it is that," Glumkin replied, "I'm afraid all the horses followed you down here. Now that you got us down here, what do you plan to do?"

"I don't know." Peter said. "The question is, where are we?"

"Underground?" Xenon suggested.

"Perhaps," Peter said, "But we might be in the castle."

"Oh! You think we are?"

"Haven't the faintest," Peter said. "Can you get up Xenon? Or are you too firmly caught?"

There was a moment of scuffling in the darkness.

"Can't budge," Xenon said, "Sorry."

"That's all right," Peter said. "Let me make a light and I'll have you out in a jiffy. Mystic?"

The horse responded to the sound of his voice. He heard the steady ring of hooves[OG2] on stone and a moment later he was nearly bowled over again as his horse reached him enthusiastically.

"Yes, all right, lad," Peter said quietly, feeling down the satin neck to the leather of the seat of the saddle and over the tooled jockey to the leather thongs that held the saddlebags in place. A moment more and he had found a little iron lantern and as he groped into the bag again for a flint and steel he paused.

"Blast!" he said suddenly, "I can't make a light, can I? Everything is wet."

"I was just going to say," Xenon said congenially.

"Aye, well we have to get him out without a light, Glumkin." Peter said.

"We'll make do," Glumkin said.

Peter knelt, feeling over the body of the horse. Xenon was trapped only by his leg, if he could lift the horse's shoulder; there might be enough space for Xenon to wriggle free.

"Glumkin? Over here," Peter groped into the darkness and sized upon the front of the Dwarf's jerkin. "If you can lift the horse's neck I'll go for the shoulder."

"When you're ready, sire," Glumkin said, taking his position.

Peter took a deep breath and pushed his own shoulder under the horse's.

"One, two, heave!"

Muscles cracked, breath came in gasps and Xenon struggled free before the horse crashed down again. "I'm out! I'm out!"

There was silence for the moment as Peter and Glumkin got their breath back.

"Right," Peter said, climbing to his feet. "We'll spread out and see if there are any doors or openings."

The silence was extreme, broken only by the snorting of the horses and the random clicking of their hooves as they stirred restlessly, unnerved by the darkness and the echoing of their masters' voices. Peter groped along the wall, dripping with cold water, no doubt from the lake above them. He glanced up and only darkness met his gaze.

"I've found something, sire, an opening." Glumkin's voice echoed towards him.

"Does it go on?"

"It's cool; I can feel the wind blowing."

"It's an outlet, then. Stay where you are, Glumkin," Peter said, "We'll bring the horses."

Peter groped again, meeting Ambyr's head and running his hands down his body until he reached Cyan and Shenandoah, still tethered to Ambyr's saddle bow. He turned again to Ambyr, taking his lead rope.

"I have Mystic and Glumkin's pony," Xenon said.

"And I have the others," Peter said, "Glumkin keep talking until we reach you."

Glumkin hesitated for a moment, then launched into a story about his grandmother's third cousin.

"She was ill and her niece, you ken, went out to bring her a basket, but there was a wolf, though she dinna ken that." Glumkin droned, "and the wolf ate my grandmother's third cousin, then put on her clothes and got into the bed."

"We have you, Glumkin," Peter said, already reaching out to feel the opening Glumkin had found, how wide it was, how tall the ceiling. "A bit low," he muttered, bumping his head.

"Canna stop?" Glumkin asked.

"Aw, I was just getting interested!" Xenon said. "My heart goes out to your grandmother's third cousin."

Peter bent and went down the tunnel, the horses' hooves ringing after him. Vaguely, behind him, he heard Glumkin explaining to Xenon how a woodcutter killed the wolf to let out the grandmother's third cousin.

"You don't say?" Xenon said.

"It's the ringing truth," Glumkin said.

Peter's groping hand found something that gave in front of him. Something very like a branch snapped him in the face and as he pushed on, his memory turned back to another day long ago when he had stumbled out the back of a wardrobe into the arms of a tree.

There was light ahead, a flash of blue sky and the bush gave, letting him out onto a sunny slope leading down to a wide blue lake reflecting the clouds that scurried across the sky like sheep in a great field. But they _were _sheep! Peter stopped, mouth open, watching a young lamb kick its heels up in the sky and galumph away, tight beside its mother.

"By the Lion's Mane!" Xenon cried next to him, "And look at the trees!"

The hills rolled away from them in steady uniformity, each as round as the next and laced with waving wheat and corn, or fields of silver-green grass. The tree next to them would have been called an apple tree, except that it was perfectly square as if it had been pruned that way by a master gardener. The trees were like that everywhere, some cubes, or rectangles, or spheres. Some spiraled like corkscrews, one was a perfect heart, but of them as varying as any trees they had ever seen.

"Where _are _we?" Xenon asked, breathless, "I have never seen such a place."

"I never even imagined such a place," Peter muttered.

They continued down the slope towards the stretching silver lake that lay before them. The horses shied away from it, still afraid of the other lake and the whirlpool that had dumped them there. Peter stepped down to the water to stare. There, reflected in the water where no tree stood, was a perfectly normal, spreading oak.


	51. A Mission

A Mission

* * *

><p>Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace<p>

Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;

I turn'd in my saddle and made its girths tight,

Then shorten'd each stirrup, and set the pique right,

Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chain'd slacker the bit,

Nor gallop'd less steadily Roland a whit.

~ Robert Browning

* * *

><p>Aravis was beginning to get cramps in her legs and her foot had long since gone to sleep.<p>

Even as the door slammed after the retreating prince, the Tisroc remained. The cricket seemed to have redoubled its efforts and Aravis could just see it across the room, her eye level to the floor.

"Well, well," the Tisroc muttered, "If he fails, I have nineteen other sons."

One of the dumb slaves stepped forward and dabbed rosewater on the Tisroc's hands. The Tisroc himself seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep. Finally, he signaled the slaves and they hoisted him to his feet. Sighing, he rolled from the room after the slaves, followed by the Grand Vizier. The door closed. Once more Aravis and Lasaraleen were plunged into darkness. The cricket chirped.

"Awful, awful!" Lasaraleen whimpered softly, "Darling, I believe I'm going to faint."

"We don't have time for fainting," Aravis said, struggling to unroll herself and climb from behind the sofa. "Oh come _on_!"

Aravis hopped across the floor on one foot, the other prickled much too much to walk on yet. She groped for the door and opened it.

"Hurry Lass!" Aravis hissed, "We _must _go!"

"Oh no!" Lasaraleen whispered, "I don't even remember the way anymore! You are so heartless! I know I'm going to faint."

"I feel like crying, that's worse. Come _on_!"

Aravis caught Lasaraleen's hand and dragged her from the room, "Which way, left or right?"

"Right," Lasaraleen said, "then another right at the end. You are _so_ unkind."

Lasaraleen took the lead again and all that was heard was the pattering of their slippers on the flagstones. Soon, they came to the end of the passage; they took another right and promptly came to a door. Aravis unbolted it and the two slipped out into the night.

"Where from here?"

"Down this way," Lasaraleen whispered, "Just down this path."

They stumbled through the dark, evergreen hedges on either side. A wall loomed up in front of them and Lasaraleen groped at a tiny door, unbolted it and swung it open. They both slipped through and stepped out on a narrow landing stage.

Lasaraleen embraced Aravis tearfully.

"I will miss you so severally, darling," She sobbed, "I _do_ wish you'd reconsider."

"Not a chance," Aravis said, "I'd rather be dead then married to Ahoshta, you saw him for yourself."

"But darling-"

"I won't hear anymore about it," Aravis said, stepping into a small dark punt in the water, "But thank you, Lass, for what you've done for me these past few days, I'll never forget it."

"Good bye, darling," Lasaraleen whispered.

"Good bye," Aravis replied, plying her paddle to the dark water.

"Say hello to the High King for me," Lasaraleen said wistfully. "He is simply-"

"Lass," Aravis said, "I doubt very much I will ever see the High King, let alone meet him. I'm going to be nothing in Narnia. That's good enough for me, just as long as I'm free."

"Nothing?" Lasaraleen began, "but darling I thought-"

"Good bye Lass!" Aravis called hurriedly, "Have a lovely life; I hope you can find your way safely back."

"But-" Lasaraleen said, but Aravis was out of earshot now, paddling as hard as she could for the opposite shore. The shadow of the bridge cut off the moonlight. There was nothing left to do, nothing left to think about except the Tombs of the Ancient Kings.

Had Shasta made it? Would Bree and Hwin be there waiting for her? Would she find her way?

The boat beached gently on the opposite shore. She tried to make it forward, but there was nothing for it but to take off her shoes and step into the water. She found it remarkably cold as she pulled the bow of the boat father up the bank under the bridge and recovered her shoes.

She climbed up the bank and found herself next to the road. Villas rose on either side of her, brooding in the dark. She began to walk, watching the stars prickling the sky. She wondered what Narnia would really be like.

After a few minutes' walk, she left the Villas behind and found herself on a lonely stretch of road. Under the moonlight, the desert stretched before her for mile upon endless rolling mile. It looked like a tossing silver sea, frozen in time.

A shrill, piercing cry echoed towards her from the desert that was answered by another and yet another. It sounded like wild laughter, haunting, making shivers crawl up her back. Aravis knew the cry of the jackal well. It had sung her to sleep back home at her father's house. For a moment, she thought of her brother. But she was going to a better place and only wished he could have come too.

Another road opened to the left, she hesitated, looking down the main road, then turned to the left. She found it sloped steeply, winding its way to the bottom of a deep valley, almost like a canyon. Ahead of her stood the temple in the Valley of the Kings.

She stopped for a moment, looking at it, dark, yet beautiful. The jackals haunting laughter reverberated through the canyon and she wondered, for only a second, if there really were ghouls down there. She stuck her chin in the air and marched forward, then broke into a run, there were Bree and Hwin, standing, heads down, by the groom sent to lead them.

She slowed to a more ladylike walk as she approached them.

"Thank you," she said to the groom, "I no longer have need of your services, you may return to your mistress. Here is money for your silence."

"To hear is to obey," the groom said, bowing low, then breaking into a run and racing for the main road. He too had heard the laughter of the jackals.

"Ah, there you are," Bree said.

"Are you all right?" Hwin asked, "We were wondering what took you so long and we have no idea where Shasta is."

"I'm sure he's lying low," Aravis said, though she was not at all sure of it. "I hope he managed to get away."

"I did."

They all looked around as Shasta materialized out of the shadows.

"Oh _good_." Hwin exclaimed, "Now we're all together."

"Good to see you old fellow," Bree said, "I didn't know the day would come that I'd be actually _glad _to see you. Anyway, how would it be if we spent what's left of the night here and start first thing in the morning?"

"Oh no, no!" Aravis exclaimed, "We must leave at once!"

"But-" Bree began.

"Why don't you listen for once!" Aravis cut in, "I won't explain now, but Lasaraleen and I manage to overhear a secret conference between the Tisroc and Prince Rabadash. Rabadash planned to leave this very night with a band of horseman, ride across the desert and attack Cair Anvard, wherever _that_ is. Apparently the Narnians and King Edmund and Queen Susan escaped last night and he's set on getting her, the Queen that is, back."

"I'm glad they got safe away," Shasta said.

"_You _knew about their getting away?" Aravis asked.

"Of course."

"In that case we should start at once," Bree said, "Hop on, you humans."

"Do you think we'll be able to outride them?" Aravis asked as she mounted Hwin.

"I don't see why not," Bree said, "It takes about fifteen minutes to saddle a horse, then of course provisions must be collected and men are fed, then they all must be assembled in one place, _that_ takes forever. No, I think they won't be starting for another two hours or more. We'll beat them yet. Now, what's our direction, due North?"

"No," Shasta said, "Wait until we get out on the road and I'll tell you about it."

The horses climbed back up the road leading out of the Valley of the Kings. The jackals were still calling to each other and the moon was higher now.

Both Aravis and Shasta spoke at the same moment.

"Sorry," said Shasta, "What were you saying?"

"What _did _happen to you?" Aravis asked, "How did you get away?"

"It was all rather miserable," Shasta said, "They mistook me for Prince Corin, he's the son of the King of Archenland. I said as little as I could and I ended up hearing all their plans about their escape the other night. Then they all left me in the room alone because they thought I had sunstroke. At the last moment, the real Prince Corin showed up through the window and I slipped out the way he came. I made it to the Tombs and have been waiting ever since. I was only hoping you hadn't left me behind."

"Left you behind? Why on earth…" Aravis paused, "Well, I'm glad we're all together again anyway."

"Look sharp," Shasta said, "See there, on the horizon? That peak split in two? That's Mount Pire, we must ride straight towards it and we'll reach water much sooner."

They all saw it, Mount Pire, dark and brooding against the dazzling stars of the sky.

"Is it too much to ask how you managed to come across that information?" Bree asked.

"A bat, a talking bat," Shasta said, "I believe what he said."

Shasta felt Bree shrug as the horse swung around and began cantering towards the distant peak. "It's rather farther west then I like," Bree panted, "But we'll try it."

So it went on all night, the horses walking and loping, which ever they felt like. Riding over the sand dunes was rather like being in a small boat on a stormy sea, plunging down into the trough of a wave, then suddenly a rushing upwards on the backs of the waves to feel for the moment that you are on the top of the world.

Sand is perhaps as treacherous as water, always slipping and rolling away, dropping into sudden abysses and giving way like a mirage. Quite often that night the horses would feel it give way under their hooves and they would pitch into holes where the sand was weaker.

"Is this desert known for quicksand?" Hwin asked nervously as she clambered out of a hole for the fifth time.

"Not that I know of, madam," Bree replied, "But any desert is treacherous."

The traveling was certainly difficult, especially for the horses. The humans only had to deal with sore backs from the endless jarring as their mounts loped.

"We must go as fast as we can tonight," Bree had said, "We'll only get walking in tomorrow, much too hot."


	52. Crabbia Horrida

Crabbia Horrida

* * *

><p><em>Did you ever wonder if the person in the puddle is real, and you're just a reflection of him? <em>

~Calvin and Hobbes

* * *

><p>"Ah, so you've finally arrived. I've been waiting for you for the past half an hour. Young people always think that they are allowed to be late."<p>

The voice spoke at Peter's feet and he looked down to see a face reflected in the rippling surface of the lake – but it wasn't his face. It was an old face with a long gray beard and keen eyes the color of the lake.

"You could at least to have made an attempt to be punctual at a meeting," the reflection continued.

"I wasn't aware I was to meet you," Peter said, finding his voice.

"Oh weren't you?" the reflection looked puzzled, "didn't Aslan inform you?...of course he didn't, that would be why he sent me….ah, I see now. I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, do forgive me."

"Aslan sent you?" Peter asked.

"Of course he did, who else would have?" the reflection asked, "or at least, he didn't send me, he sent you, but it is all relative, isn't it? I am the Hermit of the Southern March."

"I've heard of you," Peter said with a half a smile, "I'd shake your hand, but that doesn't seem to be an option."

"No," the hermit nodded, "that would not be the best idea. Do you see the boat?"

"What boat?"

"The pea green one," the Hermit said, slightly annoyed. "What other boat would there be?"

"It's over there," Xenon said. Peter looked up and saw where he pointed. A wharf had been built at the water's edge and moored alongside was a slender boat with prow and stern towering into the sky. It had a tall mast, a sail stowed along a single yard and a figurehead of a coiled serpent. It was decidedly green, pea green.

"You see it? Excellent," the Hermit looked over his shoulder, "wait here a moment, I'm afraid my other visitors have arrived. Most vexing, isn't it? Half a century goes by with nothing happening, then suddenly two things happen on the same day. I'll be back in a moment."

And the reflection of the hermit vanished, leaving only the swaying oak tree, the branches streaming in the water.

"Curious bloke," Glumkin remarked.

"Indubitably," Peter said.

"Nobody, nobody at all," the hermit was back, his forehead furrowed with vexation. "I wonder what could possibly be keeping them? However," and he turned his attention back to Peter, "here are your instructions. You must board the pea green boat and row across the lake. On the other side of the lake, you will find a stream. Do not lose the stream and you will find Baeth."

"Thank'ee," Peter said, "We are indebted to you."

"Or perhaps I am indebted to you," the Hermit said, "it is all relative. So long. The Lion's blessings on you."

And the hermit was gone, no longer did they see the reflection of the spreading tree, only blue sky on blue water.

"Well, let's get to this pea green boat," Peter said, standing up.

The led the horses along the water's edge and one by one, led them onto the ship, so they were standing amidships, grouped around the single mast of the vessel. Peter and Xenon clambered aloft up the ratlines and let loose the heavy mainsail while Glumkin cast off the warps that held the ship to the wharf.

"I wish we had a jib," Peter said, but presently her head was swinging away from the wharf and a moment later, she gathered speed, gliding out across the lake, the water laughing at her curving forefoot.

"It's a wonder how still the water is," Xenon said as they sat on the yard, their hands on the mast, "And I feel no wind, yet the sail is filled as if it were a gale."

"It's singular, isn't it?" Peter said with a smile, then he swung over to the shrouds and swung a leg around it, letting himself hand over hand to the deck to go aft to the steering oar. The lake was perfectly round, but Peter chose a tree, a corkscrewing one and sailed for it.

A piece of paper fluttered across the deck of the ship and Xenon dashed to catch it as he came down the shrouds.

"What's this?" Xenon asked in puzzlement, handing it to Peter.

Peter took at it, staring with wide eyes, "That's Queen Victoria!"

"What's that?"

"Queen Victoria!" Peter exclaimed, "It's a five pound note!"

"What's that?"

"Something from my world," Peter said.

The ship sped on, swooping across the lake like a swan. Peter looked ahead, feeling the tremor of the tiller in his hand. The trees might have been geometric shapes, the sheep might have been looking at him curiously from the sky and the lake might be perfectly round, but he was happy. He looked up to see Glumkin coming aft with a hamper in his hand.

"Sire," the dwarf said, "I found this in the bow, do you think it would be safe to eat?"

"What's in it?" Peter asked.

"Mince pie and quince," the dwarf said, "and only this singular spoon to eat it with."

He flourished a spoon that seemed to have tines in the first half of the bowl.

"Well," Peter said.

In the end, they gave in. They had no food with them and they were all famished. The mince pie was excellent, though Xenon declared that the quince, looking like large yellow pears, were too sour for human consumption. Even the horses turned up their noses.

"If the food is enchanted…" Xenon began.

"Then it's enchanted," Peter said. "Stand by, Glumkin. Xenon and I are going to stow the sail. We're nearly across."

A few minutes later, the ship was slipping up next to a wharf, sail stowed. Peter took the coiled bow warp and leapt to the dock, mooring the ship. She came gently to rest and they unloaded the horses, then came to shore to see what sort of place they were.

"Peculiar plants," Glumkin remarked. Growing thickly around the base of the nearest tree were a group of tall plants with straight leaves, from each, dangling like a flower, was a single crab.

Peter leaned down to inspect it carefully, one eyebrow raised. He was used to living in a magical land and he'd accepted talking animals, but this was going a bit too far.

That's a _Crabbia Horrida_."

They turned to see a young girl with golden ringlets standing behind them. Her eyes were blue as the sky and she carried a shepherd's crook over her arm. She blushed and dropped into a curtsey. "Those are _Smalltoothcombia Domestica,_" she added, pointing at another plant.

They saw another plant, similar to the last, but this had hair combs sprouting off of it. Another bit of greenery waved airily next to it with flies hanging off it at regular intervals.

"And that's a _Bluebottlia Buzztilentia_," she explained, then added apologetically, "we are very proud of our botany, especially the Bong trees."

"You have remarkable botany, madam," Peter said with a bow, "I am Sir Gavin, I am honored to make your acquaintance."

"I'm Little Bo Peep," she said, bobbing a curtsey, "and I'm rather afraid I've lost my sheep. You haven't seen them, have you?"

"Are they up there?" Peter asked smiling as he pointed at the sky. They looked up; the sheep had stopped grazing now and were looking down at Little Bo Peep with a decidedly sheepish expression on their faces. One of the baaed apologetically.

"You awful sheep!" Little Bo Peep cried, "and _what_ have you done with your tails?"

They left her yelling at them. Glumkin had found the stream while Peter and Xenon were admiring the foliage and presently they were forcing their way through a forest, leading the horses, geometric hedge on one side, geometric trees on the other. It was strange going. Peter noticed that the rocking-horse flies were out in force, whinnying shrilly as they hummed about, looking curiously at the humans and even more curiously at the horses that snapped at them. Peter shook his head. _Rocking-horse flies?_

The hedge rustled ahead of them and they stopped as a herd of cattle splashed across the stream, lowing softly to each other, big liquid eyes glowing in the sunlight as they clambered up the opposite bank to disappear into the woods.

"I say," Xenon said, "those cows were the first normal thing I've seen. Look out!"

He barely steadied a little boy, dressed all in blue, who burst out of the hedge, breathless and wide eyed.

"Have you seen-?" he gasped.

Peter pointed wordlessly at the woods and the boy nodded his thanks and sprinted on his way.

Xenon looked at him curiously, "how did you know he was looking for the cows?"

"I've read this story before," Peter said shortly.

* * *

><p>AN: The nonsense botany, and pea green boat are all courtesy of Edward Leer. He wrote nonsense, but like Thurber, sometimes wrote remarkably beautiful things.


	53. The Coming of Night

The Coming of Night

* * *

><p>The day is done, and the darkness<p>

Falls from the wings of Night,

As a feather is wafted downward

From an eagle in his flight.…

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

* * *

><p>The next morning took very long in coming.<p>

They sky began to lighten to their right; shining with a pearly hue, so beautiful it took their breath away. Then, very slowly, the sun itself began to peek above the horizon, shooting cool golden rays across the rippled sand. At the top of the taller sand dunes, if they looked carefully, they could just see the edge of the sea glittering miles and miles away.

Behind them, gleaming like a jewel and very clear in the early morning coolness, Tashbaan stood, already far in the distance. And forever behind them, they saw the lonely hoof prints of the horses, marring the windswept sand. Ahead of them, Mount Pire began to glow purple and misty, the tallest peak in a range that seemed to touch the sky.

They stopped for about fifteen minutes, ate a few dates and poured water into the horses from the water skins. The skins still had four legs on them, tied securely at the ends.

They began again, still loping easily, their shadows very long and dark, the horses' mains rising and falling with each stride. Then it began to get warm. At first it was a pleasant warmness, just the sun touching them and softening the chill of the night. But then, as the sun moved across the sky the temperature soared. The air began to shimmer, the horses took hot breaths of air with gasps, sweat trickled down Aravis' face and she could see that Shasta's face was shiny too and not just with sunburn. The horses were sweating too, first with damp under the saddle blankets, then dark patches around their eyes. They had to stop for a few minutes so the saddles could be taken off and they could try to cool down. It was just worse when the saddles were put back on.

They continued on, only walking now, toward Mount Pire, which seemed to have shrouded itself under layers of shimmering heat. The snow that capped the mountain with white seemed to taunt them. Tashbaan behind them looked like nothing more than a mirage, as the bright sun beat down on them mercilessly. They squinted now, through half closed eyelids, then squeezed them shut to try to stop the throbbing headaches.

The horses seemed unbearably hot to Aravis and Shasta, and Aravis and Shasta felt unbearably hot to the horses. Aravis dismounted and walked in Bree's shadow, but Shasta could not because the sand burned his bare feet.

Shasta began to wonder if the horses' hooves would split in the hot sand.

"Thanks for the thought," Bree panted, "we're both shod, so we have some going left in us yet."

The water in the water skins began to get alarmingly low and yet the desert remained unbroken, sand softly blowing before them.

"Are you quite certain the Bat knew what he was talking about?" Aravis asked, "I'm sure there are remarkably silly talking beasts just as there are remarkably silly humans."

"This one wasn't," Shasta said shortly.

"Wasn't what?" Aravis inquired, "Silly or not silly?"

Shasta didn't bother to answer her, he felt too sunburned to say anything.

Aravis was burning much worse, though she didn't know it. The pink clothes she had on might have been the height of fashion, but they certainly did not protect her from the sun. Shasta at least had a turban and a white mental, Aravis had nothing, she had taken off her jacket and now she had just thin cloth over her back and in some places nothing at all.

It was with great relief that the travelers noticed that the sun was more in the west then the east. For a little while they were riding directly towards it, then, very slowly, the shadows grew long and longer until they could not see the ends of them. As the sun lowered, the sky looked washed with blood.

It was about that time that they rode from behind a rather larger sand dune and saw a wall of rock to their left, chiseled into fantastic shapes by years of harrowing by the windblown sand. Their path seemed to drop down until they were riding almost through a small canyon.

Then for the first time, they saw little scraggly bushes, almost the same color as the sand. It grew rocky, the horses slipped and fought for their footing as they walked down. Always down.

More thin, scraggly bushes were growing and ahead of them was a whole clump of them together. As they approached they saw that the earth was damp. The gorge twisted and for a moment they thought they heard the plash of water echoing off the stone walls; as they rounded the corner, they saw it.

It was a pool that had hollowed out a bowl for itself in the rocks, a small white waterfall cascaded into it with a musical gurgling.

Shasta hardly remembered untangling himself from Bree, running forward and diving headfirst into the water. He plunged down, there was just enough light to see the bottom, golden stone and murky, a fish flitted away from him. He twisted underwater, his feet hit the bottom, then he was shooting to the silver surface. His head broke the water and he was laughing.

Aravis was a few feet away from him, trying to push her wet hair out of her face. There was a tremendous splash to their right and they looked to see Bree, shrouded in flying foam, turned blood red by the setting sun.

Aravis for a moment thought that the saddles ought not get wet, but then she didn't care. She dunked her head under water again. Her skin felt like it was made of wax and when she looked at it, it seemed red. Just the sun, she thought.

She knew now why the water sounded like music. Every noise was magnified and bounced around the sheer, sculptured cliffs around them. The walls seemed to curve above them and the pool could almost be in a cavern. The only way to continue on this way, she saw, was by climbing the waterfall itself.

Suddenly very tired, she climbed out of the water and curled up in a smooth warm hollow in the rock. She would stay awake…she _would_ stay awake…


	54. Like a Tea Tray in the Sky

Like a Tea Tray in the Sky

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><p>The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.<p>

~ Albert Einstein

* * *

><p>They walked on, the sun touching them with soft rays that streamed past the Bong trees. To the left, over the hedge, they could see the rolling green hills, sloping on like unmoving waves on a silent sea. On one hill, golden with waving wheat, they saw a low house with an orange roof, shaded by a towering cypress tree.<p>

"That house looks entirely normal," Xenon said, "the tree is not perfectly symmetrical and even the hill isn't round like the others below it. It looks just like somewhere on the Lone Islands."

"It does," Peter agreed. As they went on, the immediate scenery did not change, yet in the distance, the very far distance, it did change. They saw jagged mountains, purple as the Western Mountains in Narnia, just as the sun touched them with many hued glory. Later, they saw patchwork fields, the farmers laboring, their backs burnt gold and glistening. The rays of the sun slanted across a rolling desert, waves of sand peaked like a still ocean. Struggling up one of the dunes, they saw a pair of horses, one dapple gray, the other chestnut, their riders sitting tall and scanning the horizon. Once, for a fleeting moment, rising out of purple mist, they saw the silhouette of Cair Paravel, beautiful as a gem on the ocean.

"It's almost like we are in a world parallel to our own," Peter said suddenly. "It's all so strange. Look, there is the _Black Swan_."

And they even smelled the salt sea air and felt the breath of the wind on their faces as the rolling hills gave way to rolling sea and a ship tossing on the sparkling waves, black bows amid white foam, all sails taut and drawing. Then that image was gone as well and there were only the hills tumbling on in the distance.

The stream that they followed dashed and gurgled at their feet, lines of gold shimmering like a faery's hair as it twisted between boulders the color of emerald and amethyst. Cyan slipped and staggered and they began to grow alarmed when Mystic stumbled and fell in the stream, a peculiar expression on his face. Peter went forward to help him and watched in worry as the horse staggered out of the water, swaying on his feet.

"What happened?" Xenon exclaimed, "The others are wobbly too!"

"Did they eat anything?" Peter asked, quickly running his hands over Mystic, feeling for fever or a running pulse. Everything seemed normal.

"They drank from the stream," Glumkin said.

Peter knelt down and smelled the water, then dipped a finger in and tasted it. His eyes widened, then he laughed, "they're drunk."

"What?" Xenon asked.

"Try it," Peter waved a hand.

Xenon scooped some up, "Why, it's mead!"

"The best mead I've ever had," Peter agreed, standing, "anyway, we've got to keep on. Don't let the horses drink any more. They're all under age."

They continued on and the trees opened before them, spreading around a little meadow. In the center of the meadow, amid the long grass, stretching over the stream, there was a table set for several, but with only three present. There was an oversized dormouse fast asleep, and leaning on him on one side was a peculiar fellow with a large hat, with a message explaining he was a hatter, and leaning on the dormouse on the other side was an overlarge hare.

Peter stopped as he saw them, a puzzled expression on his face, then he strode on to stand at the end of the table.

"Friends!" he said, "can we sit a while at your table for a while? We have come far and are weary."

"Oh, do as you like," the hatter said with some dissatisfaction, "so many people showing up lately wanting to sit down."

Peter pulled out the arm chair at the end of the table and sat down, the others followed his example.

"I am Sir Gavin," Peter said, looking at them keenly, "who are you?"

"I'm A and he's B_i_," the hatter said gesturing vaguely at the hare on the other side of the dormouse, "we're a complex number…or at least we would be if we could only get rid of _him_." he gave the dormouse a bit of a jab.

"Then you're imaginary?" Peter asked, the algebra he learned in secondary school slowly coming back to him.

"Don't get uppity with me," the hatter said with a sniff, "You're made out of gluons, quarks and the strong force just like the rest of us."

Tea was laid on the table and Peter wasted no time in pouring himself a cup. There was a pie, too, a peculiar one, square instead of round, Peter asked if they might try a piece of it.

"I suppose you might," the hatter said dismally, "the expansion of pi is getting longer every year. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that they've found the millionth place by now. Go ahead, do as you like. Have you heard the sad affair of how seven eight nine?"

"I didn't," Peter said. "What are you doing here?"

"We're osculating," the hatter said sadly, "we're stuck in a plane. I had the cheek to tell Father Time that the speed of light is slowing down. He walked out on us, left us alone. Now we've only two dimensions and we're stuck with him." he jabbed the dormouse. "Dimensions," he shook his head sadly, "don't mess with them. I draw out a point and get a line, I draw out a line and get a plane, I draw out a plane and find myself with a cube, I try to draw out the cube and what do I get?"

"Haven't the faintest," Peter said amiably, sipping his tea.

"A battered cube." The hatter shook his head, "it's worse than the strong force, the square root of negative one and the fact that 0.999999 into infinity equals one."

"That's a pity," Peter said.

"Just make sure you take the absolute value," the hatter said dismally, "or you might end up with the opposite of one. Don't ask the platonic solids for help, they seem to think that since there are only five of them they have the right to be uppity." He paused, struck, "what about the square root of _i_?"

"Or even the square root of negative _i_," Peter added.

"What have you been going on about?" Xenon asked in a fearful whisper. "Is it some sort of spell?"

"Mathematics can be a spell sometimes," Peter said, winking, "It's nice to know. It's a language everyone ought to speak."

"Or even…" the hatter's voice was shaking, "the third root of negative _i_…"

"Think on it, my friend," Peter said, slapping the hatter on the shoulder. "Tell me when you've figured it out."

"The stream's missing," Glumkin said suddenly.

"Missing?" Peter started up.

"I think we've gone off on a tangent," the hatter said, "I suggest we return to the origin."

"Meaning it's not there anymore," Glumkin continued, "what shall I say? The stream equaled one a moment ago, now it equals zero. Make sense?"

"Perfect," Peter said, looking under the table, "Where did it go?"

"Let's find it," Xenon said standing up and going to the horses where they had wandered away to graze.

They left the tea party behind and entered the woods again, searching vainly for the stream. Loud barking brought their attention to another of the strange plants of the area, one sprouting up and down the stalk with howling dogs frantically wagging their tails.

"It looks to me like _Barkia Howlaloudia_," Xenon remarked.

"How did you know that?" Peter asked.

"Just made it up."

"But where has that blasted stream got to?" Peter asked fifteen minutes later after that had blundered through more strange plants then I would care to name.

"It wondered."

They looked up to see a bat hanging upside-down from the branch of a tree.

"Chessy!" Peter exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

"Exactly what I'm not doing somewhere else," the bat said, then blinked, hiding the light from its sparkling eyes. "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat. How I wonder what you're at. Up above the world you fly, Like a tea tray in the sky…come now, I'm sure you've all heard it."

"I don't believe I've had that pleasure," Peter said with half a smile. "Have you seen the stream? We lost it."

"It lost you." Chester corrected him, "it wondered what it was like on the other side of the hedge and wandered away. Or you wandered. It's all relative."

"Which way would it be?" Xenon asked.

"Try that way," the bat spread his great, ribbed wings to each side, then closed them again, wrapping himself tight. "Your brother and sister are safe. I thought you might like that bit of news."

Peter started, "I do. Where are they?"

"Sailing the high seas." Chester informed him, "they slipped away as I'm about to do. Wander a bit and you'll find the stream…or it might find you. It's all relative."

* * *

><p>AN: I wanted to dedicate this chapter to OldFashionedGirl95 who brought up the mad tea party. Rose is a mathematician, so I had no trouble finding out from her how the Mad Hatter and the March hare are possibly a complex number oscillating in a plane (the table) since the removal of a forth dimension, time. Lewis Carrol was a mathematician himself, so I think its more than possible that this is what he had in mind when he wrote _Alice in Wonderland_.

Does the Chessy the Bat remind you at all of the Cheshire Cat?

~Psyche


	55. The Chase

The Chase

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><p>To all swift things for swiftness did I sue,<p>

Clung to the whistling mane of every wind,

But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,

The long savannahs of the blue…

~ Francis Thompson

* * *

><p>"Aravis?...Aravis."<p>

Aravis tried to open her eyes; but somehow her eyelids seemed to be stuck shut. She reached up and propped one open, shocked out how puffy it was. Her vision was blurry and she shifted, her skin seemed to scream in pain and she gasped.

"Aravis? Are you all right?"

It was Hwin, Aravis saw, belly deep in the pool, looking anxiously up at her.

"I-I think so," Aravis said, then started, "Is it morning already? Where are the others?"

"Well," Hwin said, "Somehow I feel we ought to go on, but Bree won't wake up, he just told me to go away. We really should be going, especially if Prince Rabadash is right behind us."

"I quite agree," Aravis said, sliding from her perch into the water, she felt quite grumpy enough to wake any number of stubborn talking horses. "Where's Shasta?"

"I didn't even try to wake him," Hwin said, "he stayed awake last night a good deal longer than the rest of us. You were asleep, but we had a regular argument last night. Shasta was all for going on and Bree was for staying. I'm afraid I was for staying too, but I agreed with Shasta that we should try to start first thing this morning."

"Of course," Aravis said, wading through the water. She felt quite drained.

"Aravis!" Hwin exclaimed, "What happened to your skin? You're covered with blisters!"

"I'm all right," Aravis said, pulling herself out of the water at the other end of the pool where Bree lay on his side, breathing gently.

"Wake up!" Aravis exclaimed.

"My dear girl," Bree said, opening an eye, "Let me have my sleep. You wouldn't understand, but I had quite a grueling day yesterday and I'm rather tired."

"I know you want to rest, Bree," Aravis said, "But we _must_ press on! Rabadash is behind us even now."

"Oh no," Bree said tiredly, "We've quite outstripped him; I shouldn't be surprised if he only started yesterday afternoon. We're miles ahead."

"I don't believe that for a moment," Aravis said haughtily, "The Tisroc's Calvary is very swift and well trained, my brother is one of them. They would have started the night before last, mark my words."

"My dear girl," Bree said very condescendingly, "_I_ happen to be a warhorse. I think I know a good deal more about that sort of thing then you do. Now go to sleep."

"All right, fine!" Aravis exclaimed, "Go to sleep! Hwin and I will go on without you! Won't we?" Aravis looked over her shoulder at Hwin.

"Well-" Hwin began.

"All right! If you're going to be so very stubborn about it!" Bree said rolling to his feet, "If you want to leave so bad, go get some food for us!"

Aravis turned away and went to where Shasta had put the saddles the night before. It was then that Shasta woke up.

"Oh, hullo," he said, "Are we leaving?"

"Almost," Aravis said.

But it wasn't almost.

Bree was first rate at dragging his feet. First he ate his allotted share of dates very slowly, then he nosed about to see if there was anything else that was edible. He insisted on going into the pool and having a long drink, then declared that he couldn't possibly have his saddle put back on until he dried. Shasta pointed out that he was going to get wet again anyway, climbing up the waterfall.

Bree at last consented to being tacked up. They all plunged back into the pool, the humans up to their necks, and floundered to the waterfall. After a bit of debating, the humans climbed up first, then the horses followed.

The canyon above the waterfall was very narrow and they proceeded single file. The shoes on the horses' feet rang against the stone and the feet of the humans splashed in the stream. The sun was very much lessened because of the rising walls on either side, but as the sun rose, it cast its light in fantastic colors swirling like watercolors over the smooth rock walls.

The canyon widened and began to lead up, gradually at first, then more sharply. There were green shrubs all around them and the rock walls were not as high. Distantly ahead, they heard a low roar like the rushing of water. Their own stream that was up to their knees now and ran fiercer then it had. White water swept by them and they stumbled because of the press of it.

Then there it was, the Winding Arrow. Mountain fed and dashing down, far down towards the sea, it was a rocky stream, with boulders here and there stopping the flow of water in a shower of white foam.

The horses plunged into the river up to their chests. It was not deep, but wide and powerful. The humans clung to the horses' saddles and felt their way over slippery rocks. Finally, they reached the other side and climbed a grassy slope. There were wild flowers here, beautiful in many hues. Mount Pire rose above them, impossibly high and white capped. The clouds hung over the peaks and an eagle circled them.

Here the humans mounted and the horses broke into a steady lope, always up hill. But, as Bree remarked, it was almost a pleasure because the grass was so soft. They topped the first ridge and Aravis turned in the saddle and looked back over a mighty scene. To her right was Mount Pire and ahead of her, the desert; vast, golden, undulating. To the left was the sea, clear and sparkling, blue to the edge of the world.

"It's good we are out of the desert," Aravis commented, turning again in the saddle, "it looks like there's a sandstorm."

Of course Bree had to pull up and have a look.

They all stood for a few moments, watching the sun shine on a wall of rolling golden mist on the desert.

"Too small to be a proper one," Bree said, then started. A line of something dark seemed to have burst from the rolling golden cloud.

"It's no sand storm!' Hwin's voice rose in fear, "its Rabadash!"

"Five hundred horse by the look of it," Bree said as he watched, enthralled.

"We must hurry!" Exclaimed Aravis, "We must tell someone quick!"

In reply, Hwin spun on her heels and broke forward at a slow gallop. Bree caught her up in a moment.

It was an endurance race now. A horse has tremendous staying power, some are easily able to travel fifty miles in a day, some even a hundred, but they had done about that yesterday and the night before and both horses called on their last ditch of strength. A full gallop was certainly out of the question.

The ridges rose and fell before them, the next always higher than the last. There were more trees around them now and they seemed to have come across a sort of road. The horses thundered on and the children leaned into half seat to take as much weight off their backs as possible.

Aravis' head was beginning to spin. She had stopped feeling the pain in her back a long time ago, now she was content to simply hold on. She could only hear the mesmerizing pound of the horses' hooves and the steady rise and fall of Hwin's coppery mane. Then she heard something that made her blood run cold. For a moment, Aravis felt she had imagined it. It was that same choking roar she had heard how many weeks ago? When they had first met up with Shasta and Bree. She looked over her shoulder and saw something tawny streaking towards them through the grass on the side of the path.

Bree gave one startled snort and broke into a full gallop, Hwin a moment behind. Now the horses' hooves were pounding to the rhythm of Aravis' heart, throbbing in her back. The branches of the trees whipped by, the ground was a blur. The lion seemed to be keeping up with them easily, just behind Hwin and a little to the left.

The trees opened up, a green meadow lay before them. A tall hedge seemed to be ahead…it was green…with an opening…Aravis closed her eyes, she couldn't hold on anymore.

* * *

><p>AN:

Thank you Hannah Skipper for your review, I'm delighted you like the story.

As for your questions: This story is the child of an AU I wrote several years ago (Called 'The Wardrobe) in which I made Eustace the traitor instead of Edmund and sent the Pevensies on a bit of a detour to Archenland before they met up with Aslan. If this story seems to make little sense in some places it is because I was continuing in that Universe when I wrote it. I switched the Horn and Cordial between Lucy and Susan because It seemed to make the most sense that way, Lucy was the one who rode to war while Susan stayed home.

I'm sorry it isn't canon, but I can't change it now. :)

The rest of your questions, I hope, will be cleared up by reading the rest of the story.

~Psyche


	56. The Coils of the Serpent

The Coils of the Serpent

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><p>For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea, is tamed, and hath been tamed of mankind: But the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison.<p>

~ James 3:7 – 8

* * *

><p>It was not long after the taking of Drachenberg that Lucy, Eustace and half the army, with General Calhoun and his regiment, departed for Cair Paravel. They left Martin behind with the other half of the army to see that the terms of surrender were properly carried out.<p>

"It will be good to get back again," Lucy said, stroking Ashquar's neck "I feel quite properly tired out."

Eva laughed and half-halted her horse, "I have a feeling in my bones that there's more excitement yet to come."

"I certainly hope not," Eustace said, "I have a recipe growing on me that is just asking to be made."

"Oh, what is it?" Lucy asked.

"You'll find out,_ if_ it works," Eustace said, grinning, then changed the subject, "I was thinking of a way we could keep the squirrels from throwing all the castle nuts at each other-"

Just then an eagle dropped out of the sky and circled Lucy. Then rushed back up into the sky and was gone.

"I wonder what that was about?" Lucy asked, "He might have stuck around."

"That particular kind is trained not to," Eustace said, "Peter calls them reconnaissance birds. They're trained to get in and get out as fast as they can with their information."

"But milord Paladin would never send one out," Lucy said, then brightened up, "Edmund and Susan must be back! I wonder what's been happening. Why, Peter might even be back!"

It took careful persuasion from Eustace and Eva to keep her from urging Ashquar to a gallop and nearly killing him again to see whether her brothers and sister were or were not at Cair Paravel.

"We'll find out in due time," Eustace had said grabbing her horse's bridle, "We'll arrive tomorrow afternoon, I promise."

* * *

><p>The stream ran on, gurgling on its path.<p>

As they came out of the woods, Peter had everyone mount the horses and they continued at a canter, hooves splashing mead. The hill sloped down and the stream led to a road, lined on both sides by marble statues, towering into the blue sky like colossi. Great statues they were, depicting gods and goddesses, some with bows, or drawn swords, others flanked by deer, or bears.

They came to the brow of the hill and Peter pulled up his horse.

Before them lay a great palace, massive, beautiful; symmetric wings spreading on both sides into wide geometric gardens. Windows – there had to have been hundreds of them – lined the front, twinkling at them like crystal. A huge artificial lake lay in front of it and the stream skirted this, leading down the drive. As they approached, the palace only grew huger and they realized that no man ever built such a thing. Only giants had made this place.

They continued down the drive, feeling, under the gaze of the marble statues, that they were only about a foot high. The gardens flanked them, alive with blooming things and meandering bushes that formed some sort of giant maze. To the right, Peter saw a huge birdbath, about the size of a baptismal font. Suddenly drawn to it, he pulled up Mystic and looked into the depths of the pool. He started to see the spreading branches of an oak reflected in the silver surface.

"Hermit," he said with half a bow, seeing the old man's imagine rippling in the pool.

"I forgot part of my instructions," the Hermit said with a smile, "I apologize. Don't look in her eyes when she turns into a gorgon," Then the Hermit started, looking up, "And my visitors are arriving, I must go. Aslan's blessings."

And Peter found himself staring into the depths of a birdbath again. He turned Mystic's head and urged him after the others. They were at the front steps now, each at least three feet high; leading up to the great double doors. One was half open and beneath it ran the stream of mead.

"I suppose we go up there, then," Peter said, looking up.

"Leave the horses here?" Glumkin asked.

"No," Peter said, "We'll bring them with us. We might have to outrun a giant."

With some effort, the horses scaled the steps, one bound at a time, like hurdles at an Olympic race. Then they went through the door. Mirrors, gold leaf, a parquet floor met them; the walls inlaid with amber and a painted ceiling so high it seemed like a great vaulted cavern. The stream of mead flowed on, a trickle of gold on a golden floor. Light slanted from towering windows as they stared up at giant paintings, even larger than the giants had been in life. The horses' hooves rang, but even this sound was swallowed up by the immense space of empty air that surrounded them.

"I suppose the giants who built this place also built that bridge we crossed," Peter remarked. "If we are, indeed, still in Ettinsmoor."

"Seems plausible," Glumkin said.

"But where is everybody? Not," Xenon added quickly, "that I'm too keen on running into someone a couple times my height and then some."

The hall they passed through seemed to be a mile long, though it really wasn't quite that large. Presently, they came to another door and Peter, standing on Mystic's back, lifted the latch, dropping down as the door swung open. An even larger hall than the last met them and Peter was startled to see his own reflection, warped and golden, in the rim of a giant beaten bowl lying tipped on the floor, quite empty but for the last few drops of mead that had made the stream they had followed so far.

But Xenon and Glumkin were not looking at the bowl. The horses snorted as Peter looked up and saw a monstrous table the size of a small house. The builders of that great place were there, heads resting on the cloth.

"Are they asleep?" Xenon asked quietly as the giants, two score or more, lay slumped across the table, their heads in their arms.

"Perhaps," Peter said. He nudged Mystic forward and stood on the saddle, reaching up to pull himself onto the table top. A plate the size of his bed met him and he stepped around it, pausing to feel the giant pulse of the nearest hand. A strong smell filled the air and it only took him a moment to realize what was wrong.

"They're drunk," he said to Glumkin and Xenon where they stood, looking so small on the floor. "It was the mead."

"I'm coming up," Xenon said, and a moment later, both he and Glumkin stood next to Peter on the table, looking around tall wine glasses and goblets, all but empty. The table led on like a highway to the other end of the room, a monotony of sparkling wine glasses, half empty plates and snoozing giants.

"This must be the king," Peter said suddenly, poking his foot at a great hand that lay clutched on the cloth. The owner's head was half in his plate and a heavy gold crown with gems the size of Peter's fist and larger glittering in the sunlight that streamed through the towering windows.

"Though under earth, and throneless now I be; Yet while I lived all earth was under me."

A soft voice spoke, a voice like wind in the leaves in summer, and Peter looked up to see Kloris walking gingerly around the napkin rings, the brilliant green brocade of her skirt in her hand. She was beautiful, beautiful with her red gold hair lit by the sun and her green eyes, seeking his.

"Those are the words," she said softly as she came to stand next to him, "that he will order carved over his grave."

"Madam," Peter said, bowing to her, "We came here searching for our companion, Baeth. Will you lead us to him?"

"Gladly," she said with laughter that lit her face. "Come."

"I thought," she said as they walked, "that you would like to see your future opponents. These giants are not the witless fools you have in Narnia. They are intelligent, fierce and ruthless. You will find them stern enemies."

"They intend to invade Narnia, then?" Peter asked quietly.

"How else will yonder king find all earth under him, may I ask?" Kloris asked, her voice sweet. "Of course they will invade Narnia _and_ overrun it." her eyes danced with fun as she turned to him, "You may be magnificent among your own people, but here you are of no more regard than a forgotten shrimp or an overdone potato."

Kloris took his hands and looked up into his face, her eyes full of expression. How like Eva she was. "Do reconsider."

"Reconsider?" He asked shortly, looking away.

"Marry me?"

He felt a cold hand turn his face back.

"Never madam," his said quietly.

"I hold all the cards, sir," Kloris said, "does his life mean nothing to you?"

And with a sweep of her hand, she revealed something that shined like the moon in a cloudless sky. It sat in the middle of the table on an emptily platter, so bright Peter could barely see that it was a chair, curiously wrought. A dark form was slumped on it and a cold hand gripped at Peter's heart.

"By the Lion," Xenon whispered. "It is Baeth."

"His life is at stake," Kloris said softly, "Narnia is at stake."

"Release him," Peter said.

"On my terms," Kloris said sweetly.

"Release him," Peter said, "the last thing I want to do is hurt you, madam, but it is still on the list."

"I will not release him," Kloris said, "until you accept my terms."

"If I accepted your terms both Baeth and Narnia would be doomed." Peter said, his voice even. "I will never accept your terms. Now turn him loose, madam!"

Peter's voice thundered, ringing off the glassware that lined the table and Kloris recoiled, fear suddenly showing in her big green eyes. She seemed almost to grow larger and with surprising force, she struck him in the face, "How dare you!" she hissed.

She _was_ growing larger and Peter saw that her hair was writhing on her head, whipping like serpents. Her arms grew longer, her face vanished and the writhing serpents grew larger, sprouting from her shoulders. A heavy tail whipped around, crashing into Peter and sweeping him off his feet. With a shout, Xenon drew his sword and charged her. Her claws stretched out to grasp him and Peter's warning shout came too late.

"Don't look into her eyes!"

But it was already done and Peter stared in horror as Xenon froze and his color drained as the sword toppled from his grasp. He was under her spell. Peter bounded to his feet, Rhindon leaping to his hand like a live thing. He could see Kloris, the hydra, in every polished goblet and curving bowl. She was coming for him, her reflection horribly distorted. Now he had to fight his every instinct and strike where his senses told him she was not. The reflections were opposite the reality. Like lighting, he made his first blow and he heard the horrible screech as it met the gleaming scales that covered her green body.

Breathing hard, he dashed behind a goblet, almost upsetting it. Frantically, he slid his shield off his back onto his arm and looked into the mirror-like surface in the back of it – with that, he could see her. The goblet tipped over with a clang and in the back of his shield he saw her coming. He swung to meet her blow, but he wasn't quick enough and her claws sliced through his mail like knifes through silk. He stared numbly as his blood spread in the snow white cloth of the table. There was no pain, it would come later.

Her many eyes flashed green in the burnished surface of the shield and he whirled, Rhindon twisting, an extension of his arm. He felt his blow meet her as the Bism steel sliced through one of her necks as if it were butter. The serpent head flopped to the table, spilling green. One down, he thought grimly, a thousand more to go.

On he fought, his eyes riveted on the reflection that rippled in his shield. He parried and slashed and more of her heads rained down to lay littered among the plates on the table. He grew more daring, dashing from goblet to goblet, as if he were in a forest, dashing between the trees. There was Xenon, still frozen; there was Baeth on that silver chair, slumped there as if dead.

Quickly, he glanced at Baeth again and saw that he was bound in the chair by silver bonds. "Glumkin!" he called frantically, "can you set him free?"

"I'm coming!" Glumkin's voice seemed to come from a long way away as Peter lunged again at the hydra as she closed in on him, heads swimming in the silver of the shield.

The hydra's heavy tail whipped around, sweeping goblets before it. Peter dove as one rolled over his back and toppled off the edge of the table to crash to the floor. He rolled to his feet, then gasped and staggered as the tail struck him full in the chest. He raised his sword one last time and drove it deep into the scaly hide, glittering like green obsidian.

The next moment the world turned upside down. Peter fell in an agony of pain, his sword sliding out of his grasp across the table. A goblet swayed and fell and there was a flash of bright blue.

* * *

><p>AN: I'll be the first to admit that this chapter was remarkably corny...there, I said it. :)

~Psyche

A/N:

Hannah Skipper, I'm glad you are enjoying this!

The kelpies are from Celtic folklore and, in this specific instance; we are mixing in some horses from the Iliad. The chapter title, 'Gemini,' is from the twin constellation.

~Rose


	57. Always Straight Ahead

Always Straight Ahead

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><p>Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,<p>

They beat, and a Voice beat,

More instant than the feet:

"All things betray thee who betrayest me."

~ Francis Thompson

* * *

><p>Shasta had been looking over his shoulder when Aravis fell. Hwin's face was crazed and she didn't seem to notice the loss of her rider. Shasta hardly thought as he swung his feet free of the stirrups and landed running next to Bree. It was the way Bree had taught him and he was glad to have learned it so well.<p>

The next moment, Shasta was running back. Hwin passed him in a chestnut blur. There was the lion ahead of him.

Shasta stumbled and almost fell over Aravis. The lion also was slowing and came to a halt and as Shasta stood staring at it, wide eyed, all he remembered of that moment was how beautiful it was as it crouched in the grass before him.

Beautiful indeed. Filigree eyes, golden mane whipping in the wind, tawny body taut with power, huge velvet paws, each extended claw the size of a dagger. It could kill him in a moment, he knew.

An old idea came to his head, something he had been told before by a traveler…when you meet a lion don't show fear…

Shasta pulled himself to his full height and flapped his hands.

"Shoo! Go away!" his voice, just breaking, ended in a shrill squeak. "Move! Shoo!"

The lion moved backwards, slowly. It fixed him with wide, unblinking, golden eyes, glowing in the sunlight.

"Shoo! Shoo! I don't want you here," Shasta took a step forward.

The lion's tail twitched. It looked over its shoulder, then back at Shasta. For a moment, Shasta felt that he was swimming in a sea of gold as he looked into those deep, wise eyes. Then the lion smiled and in one quick motion, it whirled away and vanished into the woods.

Shasta watched it go, shocked. It had never occurred to him that it would really go away, he had been quite certain he and Aravis would end up as lion chow. Shaking his head, Shasta turned to Aravis. She looked very peaceful and quiet, almost as if she was asleep and Shasta's heart turned cold inside of him. He looked around for the horses, but they had vanished.

"Bree! Bree!" he called, "Hwin!"

The brilliant call of a bird was all that answered him. Gently, he raised Aravis, finding her far lighter than he expected, yet still very heavy for a boy to lift. Somehow he got her over his shoulders and stood up, stumbling towards the green wall that stood across the meadow from them. Shasta started to see a tall man walking towards them, all clothed in the gold of autumn leaves with a flowing white beard.

"Are you King Lune?" Shasta blurted out the first thing that came into his head.

"No," the man smiled, "I am the Hermit of the Southern March," then he stooped and lifted Aravis from Shasta's shoulders, "Come."

Shasta straightened up and followed the Hermit, wading through knee-deep grass to the tall smooth, green hedge. There was an opening, an arch, cleverly cut in the greenery and when Shasta walked through it, he found himself in a large, circular place, in the very center of which was a smooth round pool that reflected the brilliant blue and bank of clouds in the sky. Next to it was a weathered oak.

Bree and Hwin were there. Bree was standing, his head low and his reins trailing. Hwin was on her side, stretched out, each breath a tortured gasp.

"Sir?' Shasta said, "Sir, someone must be told, Prince Rabadash and a band of horseman are riding to attack Anvard!"

"Yes, someone must be told. Even now, Prince Rabadash is finding a ford across the Winding Arrow. Now," the Hermit turned and Shasta saw another arch in the green wall, "Do you see that door? Go through that door and run straight ahead. You will find King Lune if you run straight ahead."

Then, before Shasta could say anything, the Hermit, still carrying Aravis, ducked into a low doorway leading into a small stone cottage, thatched with rushes. The door closed behind him.

Shasta stood alone, staring at the green door, then around him. His legs felt like jelly from riding. _Go through that door and run straight ahead. You will find King Lune if you run straight ahead. _

Shasta took and deep breath and ran straight ahead.

There were woods on the other side of the door, he took to them full speed. He had never been in woods before and he saw them with awe. It was a birch forest, though he didn't know it. The trees were spaced beautifully, there was green moss underfoot and the leaves seemed to sigh.

After a few minutes of running, Shasta hit a narrow path, winding through the woods. It seemed to lead straight ahead, so he followed it, panting.

Mist swirled through the birches. Tiny birds chirped in the branches; squirrels paused to look at him; a fox watched him from behind a fern. Then he heard a bright trumpeting sound coming from ahead, he heard voices, a horse whinnied and he came from the woods into a clearing.

There were people there, he was glad to see, all dressed in greens and browns, mounted on beautiful steeds with their bows on their backs and their horns at their sides, some even held hawks. Two packhorses had stags across their backs.

Shasta only had a moment to see all this, for the next instant half a dozen hounds leveled him. The biggest one sat on his chest and looked curiously down at him.

"I _say,_ who are _you_?" it asked, its long tongue hanging out a little to one side.

"Um," Shasta said, "Shasta."

"Shasta!" the hound exclaimed, "Hale and well met! Have you seen a stag around anywhere?"

"Lord Stagbane," came another voice, the owner of which Shasta could not see for the press of the hounds. "Why don't you step off the poor fellow?"

"Oh, your majesty, of course, of course!" Lord Stagbane slid off Shasta and Shasta sat up. Four gentlemen stood around him now, all smiling very pleasantly. One of them, a stout, tall man with a jolly smile and golden hair streaked with gray, stiffened and stared at him, "Corin!"

"No, I'm not Prince Corin. I know I must look like him, I was mistaken for him in Tashbaan." Shasta said quickly, "Are you King Lune?"

"I am," King Lune extended a hand, pulled Shasta to his feet and looked at him quizzically.

"King Lune…Sire," Shasta was tongue tied for a moment, he hadn't the least idea how to talk to a king.

"What is it my dear fellow?" King Lune asked kindly.

"Rabadash and at least five hundred horses are riding to attack Cair Anvard at this very moment," Shasta said, "I've seen them myself, when I left the Hermit of the Southern March they were crossing the Winding Arrow."

"Rabadash?" one of the other men said, "Surly you jest. You say you were in Tashbaan? How did you get here?"

"Escaped on talking horses," Shasta said, "they're with the Hermit. You _must_ believe me! We've raced Rabadash all the way from Tashbaan!"

"I believe you, boy," King Lune said, ignoring a questioning glace from his courtiers, "An extra horse for the boy! We ride to Anvard!"

The king, with surprising agility swung astride a wide black gelding and the next moment someone seized Shasta by the leg and swung him astride a tall bay mare.

Then they were off at a gallop. Shasta's mare instinctively followed.

Shasta himself sat with his perfect position and tried to see how the others held their reins, then very gently picked his own up. Bree had taught him well, well indeed, but any talking horse might forget to instruct the use of the reins. Shasta had some vague idea that they were used for steering the horse. Cautiously, he pulled on one of the reins, and the mare swerved sharply. Shasta was so startled he dropped the reins and didn't pick them up again for a while. Shasta also had no idea how to make his horse go. Next to having a good seat and soft hands on the reins, the ability to make your horse move (either forward or backwards) is paramount. Horses do have some intelligence and after the first few minutes, the mare discovered that no one was controlling her. She immediately slackened her pace, because no horse likes to travel a long distance at a fast pace unless something is driving them, either their own instinct or a rider.

Shasta tried everything. He leaned into half seat, then two-point. She only slowed to a walk. Shasta at last gathered enough courage and kicked her, but he never learned how to kick a horse either; in truth, it takes a certain amount of skill to kick a horse and gain a result. The mare stopped entirely, stepped off the path and dropped her head to graze.

Shasta was really upset now; the last thing in the world he wanted was to be left behind. Gritting his teeth, he pulled on the right rein until the mare's head came around, but that was as far as it went. Her hooves were solidly planted and she didn't move an inch. He kicked her again, this time angling his heels so they hit her barrel with a thump. Sighing, the mare stepped back on the path and moved down it at a pace that was so slow it could hardly be called a walk.

Shasta kicked her again and again, but to no avail. Finally, he brought his hand down with a crack on her shoulder. It hurt him more than it did her, but she heard the sound and broke into a smart trot. Shasta sat back; at least this was better than nothing.

King Lune and the rest of the party were far ahead now and Shasta could only hear the blast of the hunting horn blown by an overexcited hunter. It seemed to Shasta that it was becoming harder to see. Ahead, the road seemed to be shrouded in a white mist and the horse trotted headlong into it.

Shasta stared around himself, the trees were nothing more than shadows now and the mist had an oddly cold feeling. He had no idea what it was, fog was nonexistent in Calormen.

At long last, Shasta came to where two roads diverged in the birch wood. He pulled the horse to a halt and looked down one as far as he could to where it bent in the undergrowth. Both lay equally, but it seemed that one was more traveled than the other, though the passing there had worn them about the same.

Shasta immediately thought to take the more traveled one. It was the most likely to take him to the capital city. Yet, for some strange reason, the other road called him more.

Then, from behind him, Shasta heard the sound of horse hooves pounding the road. Rabadash? Shasta thought. Quickly, he slid off the horse and led it into the woods. Maybe, perhaps, if they passed this way, he and the horse would not be noticed.

Shasta crouched down in the ferns. The horse hooves were coming nearer and there were many of them. The next moment, he saw them. Proud Tarkaans with solemn faces and scimitars curving at their sides on horseback and Shasta watched with awe as they streamed by, tens of them, bays, blacks, grays, chestnuts. Two hundred at least and just as it seemed that there could be no more, more came. Camel riders this time, their mounts swinging with easy rhythm, seeming to go on forever.

Finally, surprisingly, the last camel went by and Shasta listened for a long time to the steady crunching of pebbles under hundreds of feet. At long last, Shasta led the bay mare from the woods, mounted and turned her onto the path less taken. No use now going to Anvard, it would be besieged when he got there. The next best thing, he decided, was to go find a house and ask for food.

But all question of food vanished from his head the next moment. A sound echoed behind him, a sound he had hoped he would never hear again. It was the roar of a lion. It was distant still and when Shasta looked behind him, he could see only mist. But the roar was close enough to make the mare break into a canter. The same lion, he wondered, after his blood again? Would it ever stop chasing him?

Now they were racing, it wasn't fast, but it was exhilarating. The mare was one of those few horses that was blessed with gaits you could fall asleep to. Shasta bent over the mare's neck and felt the smooth power and rhythm.

Gradually, the mare began to slow, Shasta felt it at once, but the moment he began to think of kicking her, the roar came again, still from a long way off. The mare leaped forward effortlessly, Shasta actually felt her drop as she broke into a gallop. Gravel flew from under the mare's hooves as the woods began to thin, they thundered over an old stone bridge spanning a clear stream and then they were in the open. An oak, spreading branches heavenwards loomed out of the mist, then flashed by.

The mare galloped, unflagging, over the turf. Shasta saw that her ears were still pricked forward, that meant she had hardly even started running, she had miles more left in her.

The turf ended and the mare leaped unhesitatingly into a field of golden wheat that looked grayish in the mist. Shasta breathed in the sweet, sharp smell of it and wondered what it was. Somebody, he thought sadly, looking back, would be unhappy about the trail they were blazing through it.

The field ended and they came to a low stonewall, the mare soared over it. Shasta, for a moment, thought he saw a small stone house with lights shining in the windows, but it was swallowed by the mist.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, there it is. Just a bit different, but still…

Hannah Skipper: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you were surprised; Tamash will probably be watched very closely for a while.

~Rose


	58. The Still Small Voice

The Still Small Voice

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><p>Rise, clasp my hand, and come.<p>

Halts by me that Footfall.

Is my gloom, after all,

Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?

"Ah, Fondest, Blindest, Weakest,

I am He whom thou seekest.

Thou dravest Love from thee who dravest Me."

~ Francis Thompson

* * *

><p>When Peter opened his eyes again, he was laying on a grassy hillside. The sky was a burning blue and the wind was soft and warm. Down the hill a ways, the horses stood in a group, heads down and grazing. Xenon and Baeth were lying still, half hidden by swaying grass and Glumkin was coming up the hill.<p>

"Sire!" Glumkin called, "How fare you?"

Peter groaned and closed his eyes, he had so many different pains he couldn't possibly pin point any one of them.

"Are the horses all right?" Peter asked, when he saw Glumkin's face appear over him.

"I ken they are, it sticks in my mind that they wouldn't be grazing if something were amiss," Glumkin said, "Here, sire, let me help you up."

"And the others?" Peter asked, staggering to his feet, the stocky little dwarf a rock beneath his arm. He answered his own question for himself as he knelt over Xenon. Blood soaked the shredded cloth of Xenon's jerkin and Peter's hands shook as he felt for the pulse. It was there, a fluttering under his fingers.

"Can you patch him up?" Peter asked the dwarf, standing up, "There should be some bandages in Shenandoah's pack."

"I'll look to it, sire," Glumkin said.

Peter turned to Baeth. There was no mark on his body, but his face was as pale as if the blood had been sucked from it. His hands were cold, but his eyes fluttered open at Peter's touch.

"Baeth, lad," Peter said softly, "You're all right now."

"I feel like such a coward," Baeth whispered, clutching his hand.

"Why lad?" Peter asked, startled.

"I had to get a cold so she could clap me in her beastly silver chair," Baeth said, "I couldn't do anything. I watched it all, but I couldn't move, even when Glumkin cut me out, I couldn't move, I couldn't help, I was so scared."

"Like the best of us," Peter said, "don't let it trouble you, lad. Going on even though you are scared, now there's the rub. I never saw you flag once, Baeth."

He saw Baeth smile a bit and Peter smiled back.

"Now," Peter said, "We should get to somewhere that you and Xenon can rest. Can you sit up?"

He hauled Baeth to his feet, and both swaying, launched him into Cyan's saddle where the boy sat hunched, clutching the white mane. Peter, with Glumkin's aid, managed to haul Xenon over Ambyr's saddle. He tied him down as best he could, then turned to his own horse. Glumkin came forward and steadied him as he clambered onto Mystic. The horse groaned, the dwarf groaned, Peter groaned and the saddle groaned when he was finally astride. The wind whispered in the grass stalks, bending their heads, turning them silver as they rustled ahead across a great moor. The mountains were in the distance and Peter looked around, trying to recognize something that would tell him where they were.

"Sire!" Glumkin's voice came, "I see the Shribble!"

Peter looked around, then pulled out his telescope. It was indeed the Shribble.

"Well friends," Peter said smiling, "It looks like we're not so much worse for our peculiar journey!"

Glumkin looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. How _did _he manage to be so jovial despite all that had happened and all that could happen? The future was very glum indeed…Glumkin glanced at Peter and honestly wondered why he hadn't toppled off Mystic.

"The sooner we start, the better," Peter was saying, as he snubbed the lead reins of Cyan and Ambyr to his saddle horn, he left Shenandoah for Glumkin to deal with.

"Sire," Glumkin said, "Are you really up to traveling?"

"Well I'm not up to _not_ traveling, if that's what you want to know," Peter said, "Now, onward!"

Glumkin climbed on his pony, caught up Shenandoah's trailing lead rope and followed after the King.

* * *

><p>The mist began to thin. It was very gradual and Shasta hardly noticed it until he saw a line of trees some distance ahead. He was beginning to think quite seriously about stopping the mare, but the harder he pulled on the reins, the higher went her head and the faster she ran. He thought about just getting off the mare, but he didn't like that idea either. He didn't want to be stranded in the middle of nowhere without a mount and the mare was obviously a valuable animal and he wanted, if he could, to give her back as soon as possible.<p>

The most unpleasant thing was that it was beginning to get dark.

They hit a road, a regular, wide, straight one, paved with gravel, and pounded down it. They were getting into the trees and night began to fall. The mare at long last tired, flagged and slowed to a trot, then a walk. Shasta breathed a sigh of relief.

The mare was breathing hard, snorting, and foam dripped from her mouth. Her breathing seemed very loud; he could feel her taking deep breaths beneath him. Finally, her breathing steadied, but Shasta thought it seemed unnaturally loud. He would almost have sworn there was another horse close by, fighting for breath after a long run.

The mare held her breath for a moment as she rubbed her head against her foreleg. The breathing next to Shasta continued. It was almost quite dark and no matter how hard Shasta looked, there was nothing to be seen but the dark branches of the trees against the darkening sky.

The mare started forward at a walk and Shasta let her. There was nothing else to do. His head dropped forward, his eyes closed.

Suddenly, the mare snapped at something in the darkness, if it had been daytime, Shasta would have thought it was a horsefly, but out of the darkness, a low growl rumbled.

Shasta froze, the mare continued on her way quietly.

Shasta looked around himself. He thought, if he looked hard enough, he could almost see a black shape, darker then the dark just to his right.

Shasta noticed that the mare didn't seem particularly alarmed and considering the way she reacted to the roaring lion earlier that day, he surmised that she would have bolted by now if it were anything particularly dangerous.

They continued on, still with the breathing to their right and the dark form gliding through the darkness. Shasta at last could bare it no longer. He knew at least that he had not enough skill to make the mare gallop again.

"Who goes there?" his voice sounded uncommonly shrill in the darkness.

"It is I," the voice that answered was rich and deep with a hint of a purr in it.

"Who are you?"

"One who has chased you."

Shasta's skin prickled and the mare sighed softly.

"I didn't mean to be rude, sir," Shasta said quickly, "It's just that I've been chased by lions twice today. I was afraid you might be the same one."

"I am," the Voice replied, "the very same."

"The same?" Shasta choked.

"The very same," the Voice was strangely calming, "The same that chased you that moonlit night when you first met Aravis and Hwin; the same cat that stayed with you that night in the Valley of the Kings. I have chased you all your life, Shasta, even from before you remember, when you were but a babe almost dying in a boat tossed by the sea. I pushed the boat ashore to where a fisherman stood awake on the beach.

"I have long waited for you to turn to me, Shasta. Now at last, you have started to draw closer. Sometimes you may find me so large you cannot find the end of me, other times you may have to look deep to uncover me. You may not recognize me when you see me; you may think me ugly or beautiful, kind, or cruel. But my ways are not the ways of the worlds. I am at the bottom, the top and everywhere in between and whatever happens, I will always hold you between my paws."

"But why have you chased me this last time?" Shasta asked, his voice hushed.

"Your task is not finished," the Voice said, "Be comforted," the Voice added as Shasta's heart sank, "You will have help on the last leg of your journey. The stake of countries has lain on your shoulders."

"But why me?" Shasta exclaimed, "Why couldn't it have been Bree, or Hwin, or Aravis? They're all…_smart_. I'm not, I muff everything."

"You are given the burden, because you are most able to carry it." The Voice said, almost laughing, "Your shoulders are growing broader and your heart stronger."

"But-"

"No more questions," The Voice said, "Time will answer if not all, most."

There was silence; Shasta heard the crunch of the mare's hoofs on the gravel. The elusive visitor made no noise at all.

"Sir?" Shasta began, "Who _are_ you?"

"I am…myself," the Voice spoke it so softly Shasta could feel the words rustling the leaves and vibrating in the horse he rode. Somehow, it seemed like a very powerful thing to say.

Then quite suddenly, Shasta realized that he and the horse were alone again. He knew it at once because he felt something lift from him; it left him feeling so lonely he almost wanted to weep.

The mare finally stopped in the darkness and Shasta, too tired to do anything about it, just sat. Slowly, his head fell forward and his breathing steadied. He was asleep.

* * *

><p>AN: It has been long noted that a creature, like a wild horse, that has been chased for a long period of time away from its herd, will turn, meekly, to face its pursuer. Horse whisperers have been able to saddle and ride wild horses within a day after chasing them from the herd. There is a fine line where wildness ends and trust begins. This, I think, is a very remarkable commentary on Francis Thompson's poem, _Hound of Heaven_.

~Psyche

Hannah Skipper:

Thanks for reviewing! This chapter should answer some of your questions. We're glad you caught up, it's a long story!

~Rose and Psyche


	59. The Tapestry of Life

The Tapestry of Life

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><p>To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.<p>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>It was late morning when they reached the marsh, here; Glumkin took the lead, showing them a safe way through the water and bogs. It was at Mudgloom's wigwam that they dismounted.<p>

Mudgloom stooped out of his wigwam and stared at them sorrowfully.

"Had a feeling you'd come to harm galloping around up in Ettinsmoor," Mudgloom said. Sighing, he shouldered Xenon and carried him into his wigwam.

"On yes," he said sadly, "come in, come in. There won't be much room for you, I shouldn't wonder. All die before the night's through, I shouldn't wonder."

Hurt and tired beyond words, the travelers either sat or lay on reed mats on the floor. Mumbling to himself, Mudgloom ladled out cold eel stew and handed it out; he himself fed it to Xenon.

After they had eaten, Mudgloom set to bandaging the traveler's wounds. Peter refused to be seen to and stood up.

"I have no time," He said, "I must go."

"Go?" Glumkin jumped to his feet, "But sire!"

"I must see what's happening with Telmar," Peter said, then added, "I want you to stay here and help Mudgloom. I believe it's best that way."

"But-"

"That's an order."

"I'm not injured," Baeth said, his voice weary.

"Stay where you are, all of you," Peter said, "I will travel faster alone."

"If you _will_ be pigheaded about it, sire-" Glumkin said.

"I will be," Peter said with a smile and Glumkin followed him outside to steady him into the saddle.

"Aslan be with you, Glumkin," Peter said, turning Mystic's head.

"And you too, Sire." He stepped back and watched as the King rode towards the mainland. His shoulders seemed weighed down and the horse's neck was bent.

~o*o~

"Well friend," Peter said, dropping his hand to Mystic's golden shoulder, "It's just you and me again."

Mystic whickered in reply and made a poor effort to arch his neck. Peter did not attempt to push him forward. He knew both of them were at the last of their strength.

He rode all day, listening to the rising and falling of Mystic's footfalls and the squeak of his boots against the stirrup leathers. He watched as dark blood trickled down Mystic's shoulder, leaving a red stain in the golden coat, and for a moment he thought the horse was injured, but he knew that was impossible. Head bent, he turned his horse unto the main road, passing other travelers going their own way.

They all turned to look at him, as he sat bent in the saddle, one hand on the weary neck of his horse. They wondered at his travel worn clothes, stained with blood. Gored by a boar, some said. Others argued that he'd fought in a duel and somehow survived it. Most decided that he was a dangerous somebody to be avoided. Peter was too tired and too full of pain to care.

As night fell, he rode into a dark courtyard of an inn. He bedded down Mystic and rubbed the horse's legs with a salve to keep his joints and tendons from stiffening come morning, then bought himself a meal and a room. The meal he could hardly get down, the room called him. Before going upstairs, he turned to the innkeeper.

"Would it be too much to ask," he wondered, "If you might thump on my door at the crack of dawn, it's very urgent that you do."

The innkeeper shrugged, "If you like."

Peter, content, went upstairs and threw himself on his bed to sleep almost instantly dressed in tabard and mail as he was.

* * *

><p>When Aravis woke, night had fallen.<p>

She remembered vaguely the Hermit. He had given her something horrid to drink before she had gone to sleep. Now she lay on her chest on a bed of heather. She smelled vinegar and something else she could not place. There were cold cloths on her back.

There was a candle sitting on a small wooden table next to her, it flickered and the wax rolled down the side, leaving a convoluted pool hardening at its base. In its wan light, she observed the room. There was a larger table with two stools shoved under it; there was a great darkened fireplace and a pot hanging over the fire.

Oddly enough, there were beautiful, rich tapestries hanging over the gray stone walls, so perfect that she could see every blade of grass, every stone. They pictured people, animals. Most were beautiful, with flying horses and apples trees, a king and queen being crowned in a grassy glade and a knight battling huge dragon on a beautiful, sunny day. One was not at all nice; it pictured a great stone table on which lay a lion, an evil woman with a knife in her hand stood over him. Next to that one was another depicting the same stone table, only cracked in half, two girls stood beside it, their faces in their hands, the sun beginning to rise behind them.

Aravis turned her head and saw that the room extended on her other side also. Taking up most of that side of the room was the loom. On it was an unfinished tapestry depicting a great castle of reddish stone; in front of it two armies faced each other. Aravis recognized one of the armies well enough, it was Calormen. She saw their scimitars, their spiked helmets, their beautiful horses, their red banner with the god Tash. The other army had two banners, one a red lion on a green ground, the other a golden lily on blue…

The candled flickered and a cold draft came. Aravis looked around and saw the door open, letting in the Hermit.

"Ah, my daughter, you are awake!" the Hermit came across the room to look at her, "How is your back faring?"

"Well, I think," Aravis said, "It doesn't seem to hurt."

"Very good," the Hermit said, going to stir the contents in the pot over the fire, "It has blistered, but I think it will do well. My salves will help it heal."

"I suppose I'm lucky," Aravis said, propping herself up on her elbows, "I could have died of the heat as easily."

"Daughter, I have lived on this earth for one hundred and nine years and I have never met with any such thing called 'luck'." The Hermit said quietly, "things always happen as they ought and there is always some reason, even if we are not given to know it, according to the will of the Lion. Now see if you can eat this."

Aravis took the wooden bowl offered her and looked into it. There were chunks of beef and potatoes, carrots, onions and mushrooms, most of which she had never seen before. Cautiously, she tried it and finding it quite good and herself quite hungry, she wolfed it down in the most unladylike manner, while the Hermit looked on, smiling.

"How are the horses?" Aravis asked, "And where is Shasta?"

"My cousins the horses are doing quite well and have just finished their own supper," the Hermit said, taking her bowl, "Shasta went on ahead to warn King Lune of Rabadash and his army. By my art, I find that he succeeded, the gates of Anvard are closed and it is under siege. I pray Rabadash will fail."

"Do you think he will?" Aravis asked.

"Unlike Equus of Narnia," the Hermit said, "I do not have the gift of foresight, but rest assured, daughter, all will happen as the Lion ordains."

"Sir…" Aravis paused, "these tapestries; did you make them yourself?"

"I did," the Hermit replied.

"I wanted to ask you," Aravis said, "What is occurring in the one of the lion on the stone table? Forgive me, but it is an odd thing."

"It is indeed," the Hermit said, turning to look at it. "That is the Lion, Aslan, where he willingly gave up his life for another. The power of the thing he did was so great that he came to life again."

"Did he indeed?" Aravis said quietly.

* * *

><p>AN:

Dear Hannah Skipper,

Thanks for all your reviews as usual. I called the castle of Anvard 'Cair Anvard' to differentiate it from the city of Anvard (which I invented). 'Cair' (Caer in Welsh) literally means 'castle', so calling Cair Paravel the 'Castle of Cair Paravel' is overdoing it a little :) (not that you did that). C. S. Lewis' depiction almost makes me think that the only habitation in all of Archenland is Anvard, which is not a city, but a castle. If Lewis was going to be consistent (which he normally wasn't) than he would have prefixed both 'Paravel' and 'Anvard' with 'Cair' to denote castles.

Hope I've answered your question to your satisfaction. (:

I'd also like to thank you for your suggestions, which helped fill some holes.

~Psyche

* * *

><p>Dear Anonymous reviewer,<p>

thanks so much for your review! We're delighted that you are enjoying the story. If you should have any comments, questions or criticisms, please feel free to tell us. :)

~Rose and Psyche


	60. The Dawning of Day

The Dawning of Day

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><p>I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.<p>

~ C. S. Lewis

* * *

><p>The thumping on the door was cruel, very cruel, Peter thought as he woke from the peaceful and painless dark of sleep.<p>

"I hear you!" he bellowed and the thumping ceased. Morning now. Must get up. Must continue on.

But somehow he couldn't move. All the muscles and joints and broken bones in his battered body had stiffened up in the night. He was sore beyond belief. Groaning, he rolled from the bed and hobbled across the room to the window. Sunrise. Beautiful. More beautiful, because only yesterday he had thought he would never see one again in this world.

When he finally went downstairs, he decided to forego eating. He had no appetite.

Out in the stable, Mystic at least seemed to have recovered himself. Peter paid one of the stable boys to saddle the horse for him, then at last, help him mount. The boy stood back and watched curiously as horse and rider trotted from the courtyard.

Peter continued on.

Mystic begged for a canter and Peter let him go. The horse's powerful legs ate up the miles effortlessly. The morning wore on, and high noon came.

Peter stopped for a while to rest his horse and eat. It was a hundred and forty miles from the river Shribble to Cair Paravel. He reckoned he had done about fifty-six miles the day before and thirty since that morning. That left forty-four miles still to go.

He eyed Mystic appraisingly. The horse seemed fresh enough. Once, only last year, though it seemed ages ago, Peter had ridden the horse a hundred miles in only eighteen hours. Mystic had some bottom left in him still. He was a good horse, young, more than half southern stock. He was not exceptionally fast, but it is not speed that makes a horse.

Peter mounted again and turned Mystic's nose south. Five hours later, He saw Cair Paravel to his left, proud, beautiful, yet he did not turn towards it. Something told him to continue on.

* * *

><p>Shasta woke suddenly because the mare jerked and snorted. He never knew that she had been asleep too and had suddenly woken.<p>

Shasta shook the sleep from his eyes and stared around himself. They were standing on a ridge and the sun was to their right, just rising, throwing long glittering rays over the distant eastern sea. Ahead of Shasta was one of the most beautiful scenes he had ever seen. No one needed to tell him that at last he was seeing Narnia. Purple Mountains far distant on his left, rolling green hills, soft forests, great fields, far away a gleaming river, curving like a silver snake. On his right, silhouetted by the rising sun and almost as distant and misty as the mountains, was a great castle, high on a rocky hill, distant, very distant, yet rising like a beacon. He wanted to be there and his soul reached for it.

"Come on horse," Shasta said to the mare, "the faster we get there, the faster we'll both get to eat."

The mare seemed amiable to the idea and moved slowly down the road as it curved its way down toward the green forest below them.

The mare's hooves beat a steady rhythm as they entered the forest. The road seemed very well traveled and Shasta thought it would lead more or less to the castle, through how soon he would reach it eluded him. It never seemed to look any closer. He wondered what sort of people he'd find there. Perhaps King Edmund and Queen Susan, maybe even Prince Corin. He wanted very much to see them again.

The hours wore on and Shasta's head was beginning to spin. He thought suddenly that perhaps if he looked in the saddlebags he might find something to eat. Hopefully he looked, but his heart sank when he ascertained that there _were_ no saddlebags.

His back ached, his legs ached, his head was dizzy. He had now been sitting almost nonstop on a horse for thirty-six hours. He thought of getting off, but he knew well enough that he would never reach Cair Paravel on foot the way he felt.

It was about noon that he smelled the unmistakable smell of cooking and he came across a roadside stand on which were laid out a quantity of meat pies, behind it stood a short, rather fat man with a thick, spiky, red beard.

"Hullo neighbor! Welcome to the Tanglewood!" he called to Shasta, "its high noon, care for anything to eat? You look a bit green around the gills."

"I would like something to eat," Shasta replied, "but you see, I don't have any money."

"By your accent you're not from these parts lad," the dwarf came from around his stand to look up at Shasta, "where do you blow from?"

"Calormen," Shasta swallowed, "I say, you wouldn't _lend_ me one of those meat pies?"

The Dwarf laughed, "When did you last eat, youngster?"

"Yesterday morning." Shasta replied, trying not to look at the stand.

"Yesterday morning?" the dwarf asked, and whistled. He turned to his stand, took one of the meat pies and handed it to Shasta, "Take one and welcome, I can't rightly let you starve, youngster."

"I'll pay you when I can," Shasta said gratefully.

"Don't even think about it, lad." The Dwarf said, as Shasta devoured the meat pie. "Where are you bound?"

"Cair Paravel," Shasta said.

"You've still got quite a step to go," the dwarf said, "Your mare looks a bit wacked, you might do well to rest her."

"I would," Shasta said, "But I'm delivering urgent news from Archenland that can't be delayed."

The dwarf nodded, "In that case you'd best be on your way. Well met all the same."

"And you," Shasta said turning the mare's head and continuing on his way.

About five miles later, the road curved suddenly away from the castle and Shasta decided to take matters into his own hands, he turned the horse off the road and rode directly towards the castle. After all, the faster he got there the faster he'd get more to eat. He told this to the mare, but she never altered her pace.

It was all together a very pleasant afternoon. The birds were twittering exhilaratingly and tossing themselves through the air like bright gems. Shasta had never seen so many kinds before. There were bright red ones, blue ones and best of all; Shasta caught sight of a tiny metallic one with a long beak. Beak and all, it was no bigger than his little finger. There were animals too, curious, watching him from the deeper parts of the woods.

A red fox paused for a moment directly in front of him and stared at him with a penetrating gaze. A stag watched him with large, liquid eyes, then bounded on with a quirk of its tail. A large rabbit popped out of its hole and watched him curiously. In return, Shasta watched them all with awe. Green mist swirled through the branches and for a moment, he thought he saw a face, curious, beautiful – but it was gone in an instant.

The woods began to thin and they came out into a small clearing covered with wild flowers and long grass tinged purple and rippling in the breeze. Near the middle of a clearing stood a horse with a coat of a pale golden hue and a black mane and tail, head down and grazing. It was fully saddled, complete with harness, but Shasta saw no sign of a rider.

Wonderingly, Shasta turned the mare's head and rode toward the horse. It raised its head once and looked at him, then returned to grazing.

"Corin!"

Shasta looked around. A rather scruffy fellow with shredded, bloodstained, rusty mail and several days worth of beard stubbling his chin, was sitting in the grass some distance from the horse, staring at him wide-eyed. He looked to Shasta a little more than a little like a highway bandit.

"I'm not," Shasta said, "I know I look like him, but I'm not."

The man stared at him a little longer.

"If you're not Corin, who are you?"

"Shasta," said Shasta.

"Shasta?"

"Yes," Shasta said, "Are you from Cair Paravel?"

"I'm heading there."

"Please," Shasta dismounted and walked towards the man cautiously. "Can you ride fast? I can't seem to make my horse go any faster than a walk and I have an extremely important message to give to someone at Cair Paravel."

"An important message, eh?" the man said, half smiling, then gestured to Shasta, "Will you help me stand up? I just fell off my horse."

With a sigh, Shasta went forward and helped him stand. If this man fell off, he certainly couldn't make his horse gallop. He eyed the sword and dagger hanging at the man's side with respect, helping as best he could while keeping his distance.

"I say, sir!" Shasta exclaimed, "You have a gash in your side!"

"Call me Peter," The man felt down his side, "Hmm, I didn't know about that one."

"Are you injured?" Shasta asked stupidly.

"A bit," Peter said, swaying to the horse and steadying himself on the saddle, "Now, what's this message?"

Shasta looked at Peter, should he tell him?

"King Edmund and Queen Susan," Shasta saw Peter stiffen at the names, "escaped from Tashbaan four…or was it five…days ago. Now Prince Rabadash has assembled an army and is riding against Cair Anvard at this very moment."

"Prince Rabadash?" Peter stared hard at him, "Prince _Rabadash_?"

Shasta nodded, "He was so angry that Queen Susan refused him that he convinced his father to let him invade Archenland, then Narnia."

"Doesn't sound like him," Peter said, "Well, you'd better get on your horse and I'll get on mine and we'll ride to Cair Paravel."

"You'd better go on ahead," Shasta said, "I can't seem to make my horse gallop."

"She looks as if you've ridden her from the other end of nowhere." Peter said, "Hop on your horse, I'll lead her. Will you help me on mine?"

With Shasta's help, Peter very slowly hauled himself in the saddle. Shasta vaulted onto his horse and Peter, reaching back into his saddlebags, found a lead rope which he hooked to the mare's curb bit.

"Both horses are just about dead," Peter commented, snubbing the end of the lead rope to his saddle bow and urging the horses to a canter, "But we'll do the best we can. And how do you know all this that you've been telling me?"

"My friend was trying to escape from Tashbaan and she accidently ended up hidden in the same room where the Tisroc and Prince Rabadash were having their conference; she overheard everything."

"You were in Tashbaan?"

"Just outside of it," Shasta said, "I was mistaken for Prince Corin by King Edmund while I was in Tashbaan and I barely escaped."

"He mistook you…where was Corin?"

"He came in at the last moment and I got out."

Peter glanced behind him, "If you rode your mare from Tashbaan, no wonder she's so jaded."

"I didn't…I mean," Shasta paused, "She's not really mine, she's King Lune's, but she wouldn't gallop, so I lost them…or rather, they lost me. I rode a talking horse from Tashbaan, but they were quite winded, so I left them with the Hermit of the Southern March and went on alone."

"They?" Peter asked.

"Well there were two of them," Shasta said.

"What were you doing, the roman ride?"

"What's that?" Shasta asked.

"Riding two horses at the same time," Peter said, "I'd show you if I was in better shape."

Cair Paravel rose up before them, misty and towering. It was impressive, though not the overbearing impressiveness of Tashbaan. This place was noble.

The horses hit a wide rather busy road and that threaded through the trees. To their left, in the distance, they could just see the bay and the silhouettes of tall warships and merchant vessels at anchor there. They were going uphill now, sharply; the horses were laboring and Peter spoke to them softly. Shasta stared up at the castle, looming over them like a great stone giant. They came out on the flat; the huge gates were ahead of them. Over the gates was the Narnian coat of arms, the shield with the red lion on green. Beneath it were the words, "No man can harm me unpunished."

Peter urged the horses to an even faster gallop and flew under the portcullis. The guards took one look and leaped out of the way. Shasta wondered why they made no attempt to stop them.

The horses swerved to the right and up a ramp leading under yet another gate. The castle walls towered on either side impossibly high, there was the muzzle of a cannon; the sound of the horses' hooves echoed on the damp walls. They shot under the gate and rounded the corner; people dove out of the way. They tore through the midst of a hawking party and rode through another gate.

They came out on a smooth green lawn; Shasta caught a fleeting, but spectacular view of the ocean before they dashed around a corner and pulled up in a wide courtyard.

There was silence for a moment, then everyone was racing somewhere and shouting at the same time. The next moment Shasta saw Queen Susan running towards them.

"Peter!"

Peter swung off his horse, took a step towards her, then measured his length on the ground.

* * *

><p>AN: Whenever I think of Frances Burney's _Evelina _I will always think of the ladies who were constantly 'measuring their length' on the ground. I believe a gentleman did it too. It was written in the 1770's and I must say, I was quite diverted. It was almost as amusing as Miss Bingley's 'turn about the room' that was 'so refreshing' in _Pride and Prejudice _(that, I'm afraid, is an inside joke unless you've read the book).

I've found that the English language was used very differently in the past. Shakespeare would have used all his 'ed's to their full degree like when poor Juliet learns that Romeo is 'banish-éd' and Kipling, to avoid misunderstanding, wrote all his contractions in a most awkward manner...like "are... n't" and "were... n't" (dots denoting spaces). The Colonial Americans abbreviated everything they could... like Tho. Jefferson. Reading one of their letters was like a foreign language what with yrs. mst. sinc. Geo. Washington.

Ah, enough of this rambling, Rose says and I think I'd agree.

~Rose and Psyche Inc.


	61. Seeing Double

Seeing Double

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><p>It's double the giggles and double the grins, and double the trouble if you're blessed with twins.<p>

~ Anonymous

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><p>Peter was vaguely aware of someone pulling at him.<p>

"Peter, old chap, can you hear me?" that was Edmund's voice.

"I'm afraid he's hurt himself awfully!" that was Susan's voice, edging on hysterical.

"I say, he _must_ have had a time!" Corin's voice, not Shasta's, or was it Shasta and not really Corin?

Someone was propping him up and he opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Peter said thickly.

"Sorry for what?" Edmund's face blurred into his vision.

"Should we carry him inside?" another face crowded in next to Edmund's. Rabadash? What? Why?

Peter sat up and stared at Rabadash, "What are you doing here?"

"He's not really Rabadash…he explained it all to us…his name is Tamash…pretended to be Rabadash…" they all started to explain at once.

"Here, someone help me up," Peter said, "I can't think right sitting down."

Edmund and Tamash helped him to his feet, Peter moaned.

"Has Lucy sent any messages recently?" Peter asked tiredly.

"The army is coming this way," Edmund said, "We've only gotten back yesterday, but I sent out an eagle to see what was up. _Where_ have you been? We've only been able to get some insane story about chasing that green giant."

"I did," Peter said, "ended up dispatching the snake that nearly killed Lucy instead."

"The snake?" Edmund asked. They started walking towards the main entrance of the palace, Edmund on one side of Peter, Tamash on the other.

"Yes, the snake," Peter said slowly, then stopped dead, "That reminds me! Rabadash is attacking Anvard. Where's Shasta?"

Shasta suddenly realized that they were all looking at him.

"I say!" Corin said, noticing him for the first time, "So you _did_ get out all right? I _am_ glad!"

"Do you know any of the details of Rabadash's plan?" Peter asked.

"Not really," Shasta said, "He plans to take Anvard, then from Anvard take Cair Paravel. Bree said there were at least five hundred of them."

Peter whistled.

"I very much hate to say it," Edmund said, "but we can't aid Lune. We have barely enough men to guard Cair Paravel. Our army is in the west."

"Unfortunately." Peter said, "The castle guard must be put on full alert and I want scouts sent out south and west…" he trailed off, "For some reason I'm very tired."

Edmund snorted, "You look like you've been rubbed violently on a giant washboard. What happened?"

"She turned into some sort of snake thing," Peter said. "Then tried to see how hard she could whip me with her tail. Most unnerving."

"Who's she?"

They were now in the great entrance room. Shasta caught his breath, never had he seen such beauty, such grandeur.

The walls were paneled with glowing oak, trimmed with beautiful, intricate gilt carvings and tall mirrors. The vast, high ceiling was pale green plaster molded into wonderful gilt shapes. A huge, brilliant chandelier hung above the stairway that curved up to a balcony. Two bronze statues, one holding a sword, the other blindfolded, holding a pair of scales, stood on the bottom of the stairs.

Lord Paladin appeared at the top of the stair and came running down, his feet making no noise on the red carpet.

"Sire," he said, bowing deeply to Peter as he reached him, "I beg you, do you have any news of my nephew, Baeth?"

"Baeth is safe," Peter said, "and I trust he will be well in time."

"Where is he?"

"With the Marshwiggles, he is in safe hands there," Peter said, "Now, my lord Paladin, the castle guard must be put on alert and I want scouts – eagles, probably – three to the west to see what has become of my sister and three to the south because Prince Rabadash is attacking Anvard."

"Anvard?" Paladin stared at him, "of course, sire." He bowed and departed.

~o*o~

Since Corin noticed Shasta, he walked beside him, grinning impishly.

After Paladin departed, they proceeded through a door, cleverly built into the wall to make it look as if there was nothing there. Shasta found himself standing in a large sitting room. Peter sat down in an armchair, propped his feet on a heavy table, intricately carved, and grinned at Susan who was staring at him worriedly.

"You really ought to be in your room in your own bed," she said.

"Don't make me climb the stairs just yet."

"Come on," Corin said, plucking at Shasta's sleeve, "Let's get out, she'll start talking for hours about how naughty he was," Shasta followed Corin out the door, "Think of it," Corin continued, "The High King naughty."

"The High King?" Shasta froze, "That was the High King?"

"Of course," Corin said, "Who else would it be? The cook?"

"I don't-" Shasta began, but he was rudely interrupted by Lord Peridan swinging around the banister and skidding across the smooth marble floor to Corin.

"Prince Corin!" Peridan exclaimed, "The High King is back, does he bear any news of my brother? My sister is distraught!"

"He says Baeth is with the marshwiggles," Corin said, he turned to Shasta, "Do you remember anything else?"

"No," Shasta said, his head was whirling and he was desperately hungry.

"I say," Corin said, looking hard at him, "you do look a bit _green_…are you all right?"

Shasta never answered, for at that moment a centaur crashed through the door and slid to a halt on the mosaic floor.

"Queen Lucy has returned!" he exclaimed, "The army has been seen coming from the west, they will be here momentarily!"

~o*o~

"And what are we to do with _him_?" Peter had asked the moment the door closed behind Corin and Shasta.

"Corin's double?" Susan asked, "Do you _really_ think it could possibly be?"

"Who else?" Peter asked, "He's been living in Calormen _and_ he's nearly identical to Corin."

Susan stood up, then sat down again, "Lune will be so pleased!"

"He will be," Peter said, "Does Corin know that he had a brother?"

"No," Susan said, "Lune never told him and of course I didn't-"

At that moment a centaur burst through the door, "Queen Lucy has been sighted!"

Peter tried to stand up but failed and Edmund and Susan dashed out the door after the centaur. Peter looked around, Tamash was the only one left in the room.

"Would you mind helping me up?" Peter asked, "It's not something I'd normally ask, but-"

Tamash stepped forward, "Of course."

* * *

><p>Early the next morning, before daybreak, Eustace, Lucy and Eva rode on ahead, leaving the army to follow at its slower pace.<p>

The sun rose slowly and Cair Paravel was merely a shadow on the horizon. Lucy, in her excitement, urged Ashquar to a canter, the others followed silently. The rays of the rising sun suddenly illuminated the castle turning it to gold and crimson.

"They _are _back! Look!" Lucy cried, "Their flags are flying from the Cair!"

Indeed, they could see, though just barely, Susan's swan on purple, Edmund's unicorn on blue and Peter's gold lion on red. The great Narnian flag, the red lion on green, fluttered above them all.

"The only one missing is your rose, your majesty," Eva said.

"Well," Lucy said, "It shall be there soon!"

Their horses ate up the miles, sometimes walking, sometimes cantering. The sun rose, Cair Paravel beckoned them, the stones turned brilliant gold.

At last, they were thundering up the final stretch. The castle toward before them, and as they flashed under the gatehouse, the guards dashed out of the way as if they were used to it. The horses snorted, they rounded the corner, people were running out of the way. At last there was the palace, they dashed into the courtyard and threw themselves from their horses laughing.

Lucy whirled around, there was Susan and Edmund, Peter was behind them. She could see their smiles, everything was all right.

"Oh Lucy!" Susan exclaimed, hugging her, "I'm so sorry we left you with Telmar! We didn't know!"

"It's quite all right!" Lucy said, "I've learned a lot and I think it all turned out very well and what happened to you?"

"Us?" Susan grinned, "we escaped at dead of night…I'm not marrying Rabadash after all."

Lucy's face glowed, "wonderful!"

"Lucy," Peter's voice, very tired, cut in on their conversation, "Where's the army?"

Lucy embraced him with vigor. Peter moaned and swayed dangerously backwards. Grimly Edmund caught him.

"Why?" Lucy stepped back, "What on earth happened to you?"

"I have some broken ribs," Peter explained. "Whe-"

"I didn't know you had broken ribs!" Susan exclaimed, "They should be bound up at once!"

"They can wait," Peter said. "Where is the army?"

"I left half of it behind with Martin at Drachenberg," Lucy said proudly, "and the other half should arrive here in an hour or two. General Calhoun of Archenland is with them."

"_He _is?" Peter exclaimed, "That leaves Arcanland practically defenseless!"

"Why? What happened?" Lucy exclaimed as everyone grew serious.

"Prince Rabadash is attacking Anvard," Peter said.

"Prince Rabadash?" Lucy exclaimed, "Why ever? He wouldn't!"

"It's too hard to explain now," Peter said, he was beginning to sway again.

"Quite," Edmund said, steadying him, "Lord Eustace, I charge you to see that the High King lands in his room."

"I quite agree," Susan said.

Peter didn't bother arguing. With Susan and Eustace on either side, he started back into the palace.

Lucy was just going to hug Edmund when she caught sight of Tamash, "wha-?"

"My lady," Tamash bowed, "Let me introduce myself, my name is Tamash."

"Is this some sort of joke?" Lucy exclaimed.

"Not at all," Edmund said, putting his arm around her shoulder, "That-" he gestured to Tamash, "Is the fake Rabadash, the one you met, the one who gave you Ashquar. He is Rabadash's older brother. The real Rabadash made this one come in his place."

Lucy stared at Tamash, "This is very strange."

"It is indeed," Edmund said, "Now here is another wonder," he pointed out Corin and Shasta where they stood near the door.

"Hullo!" Corin said, "I have so much to tell you about!"

"Corin!" Lucy exclaimed, then her eyes moved to Shasta and she stared at him wide eyed.

"Not-not-" She took a step back still staring at him, "Cor?"

"_We_ think so," Edmund said, "Only he doesn't know yet."

"Where did he come from?"

"Calormen."

Shasta stared at them dumbly, trying his best to understand what they were saying about him. He was quite shocked when he was warmly embraced by Queen Lucy, a personage that he had only seen from a distance.

"For a moment there I thought I was seeing double," She was saying as she hooked her arm though his. "You must tell me all about yourself."

"That's a corking idea," Corin said, "Why don't we tell our tales over breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" Lucy asked, "I'm fairly starving, when did you last eat?"

"Yesterday night," Corin said.

"I haven't really eaten since yesterday morning," Shasta said, he liked the way they all stopped and stared at him.

* * *

><p>AN: It seems that everything has happened this past couple of weeks. My Grandfather broke his hip and my other Grandmother came up because Rose just graduated wirh a bachelors of arts in mathematics. What I'm trying to say is that I do intend to reply to your reviews as soon as possible.

~Psyche


	62. You'll Always be Part of Me

You'll Always be Part of Me

* * *

><p><em>If I could reach up and hold a star for every time you've made me smile, the entire evening sky would be in the palm of my hand. <em>

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>Queen Lucy, Prince Corin, Lady Eva and Shasta took breakfast together. King Edmund joined them for a cup of tea, but for the most part, he was too busy deciding how they would aid Archenland.<p>

Shasta found himself telling three eager listeners his life's story. He told of Arsheesh, the fisherman; the man he had called father. He told of a sunny afternoon when a Tarkaan rode to their hovel, dismounted and demanded hospitality. He told of how he had sat outside, his ear to a crack in the hut and listed while Arsheesh and the Tarkaan bargained his price. Then he told how Bree had first spoken to him and they decided to run away to Narnia.

He spoke of meeting Aravis and Hwin, of the caravan they joined, of Tashbaan on the horizon. He told how he had been mistaken for Prince Corin by King Edmund, how he had escaped again and waited at the Valley of the Kings for a night and a day with only a golden cat for company. Then he told how Aravis had managed to overhear the Tisroc and Rabadash and how they had traveled across the desert. He told about the mad dash to the Hermit of the Southern March, about how he had met King Lune. Then he told about his gallop across Archenland and at last, his meeting with the High King.

"I say," Corin said, "I wish something that exciting would happen to me!"

"I think you've had enough exciting times to please anybody," Lucy said wisely.

"You're one to talk," Corin muttered. "You've just fought a battle."

"And I hope I won't have to fight another."

Corin looked at her oddly, "You've changed."

"Hopefully it's for the better!" Lucy said, laughing. "I believe battles tend to make one a more serious animal for at least a week after one fights in one."

"I wish I could fight in one," Corin said dreamily.

"I hope you never have to," Lucy said. "They're not at all what you think."

"But then you get to get wounded or-"

"Killed," Lucy said, "look at Peter; do you think he seems particularly happy at the moment?"

"You sound just like Susan!" Corin exclaimed.

"I feel a bit like her too," Lucy added.

~o*o~

After their conversation, the four of them, Lucy, Corin, Shasta and Eva sat in silence. They had taken breakfast on a shaded marble balcony, the columns heavy with climbing roses.

From where they sat, they commanded a fair view of the ocean and the southern mountains, towering in the far distance. Lucy thought of the first time she had seen them, distant and purple, dominating the horizon. She thought of King Lune, stout and jolly. Was he fighting for his life at this moment? Was he standing on the familiar battlements of Cair Anvard and watching Prince Rabadash and his army?

She was startled out of her reverie by Susan coming softly through a doorway at the end of the balcony, followed by Eustace.

"How's Peter?" Lucy asked at once.

"He seems well, enough. I've stitched up the worst of his gashes and bandaged the others. His ribs are only fractured, not entirely broken. I can only wonder at what he met with in Ettinsmoor." Susan dragged a chair to the table and sat down, Eustace dropped cross-legged on the floor, staring at the landscape.

"And what's going to be done about King Lune?" Lucy inquired.

"Edmund is seeing to that," Susan said. "I know no more than you do."

"I should probably go and offer my services," Eustace said, standing up.

"We all ought," Lucy said.

"You stay exactly where you are," Eustace said, "you've been through quite enough."

"You've been through just as much!" Lucy exclaimed.

"I'm a man," Eustace said, grinning. "I can take it."

"Oh faugh!"

Eustace only laughed and turned away.

"I probably ought to go with him," Eva said, standing up. "I might be of some service. Perhaps Lord Flavis will put me to work counting things."

"If you like," Lucy said, "But you needn't."

"I'll probably get more in the way then help," Eva replied, half smiling, "But I like to feel that I'm useful."

Susan watched her go, "she has been a great comfort to me."

"She's been a great companion to me," Lucy said, "It's easily to like her…once you get used to her," she added. "Though, at times there is nothing I'd like more then to wring her neck."

"Oh Lucy," Susan said, "I don't believe you have ever thought that of anyone!"

"I have," Corin said helpfully. They both ignored him.

"Oh not really, I mean, not really wring her neck, just hypothetically, or metaphorically, or theoretically….perhaps I'll lock her up in a tower and throw the key away and sell tickets to knights in shining armor who want to save her from a fate worse than death-"

"I'll sell the tickets," Corin said eagerly.

"Lucy," Susan looked at her sternly, "I do believe you're tired. I want you to go to bed at once. I think Eustace is right, you've completely worn yourself out."

"Perhaps I am," Lucy said and caught herself yawning. "I feel like all my emotions are spinning like tops…or perhaps weaving around each other in circles-"

"Lucy…"

"All right," Lucy stood up, yawned again and smiled sweetly, "I'm going."

She walked through the door, down a long hallway, up a flight of steps, down another long hallway and just as she was tuning to another door, she felt a hand on her arm.

She turned to see Tamash bowing to her gracefully.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Highness," Lucy curtsied with a smile. "Forgive me, but this has all been so strange."

"And I apologize," Tamash said, "I meant to ask, your majesty…I meant to inquire…"

"Please, tell me," Lucy said.

"I wished to ask how Ashquar does," Tamash said at last. "I've thought about him often."

"Ashquar," Lucy laughed. "He's wonderful, the finest horse I've ever ridden. I rode him to battle and he never flinched, obeyed my commands to the end. You must be a brilliant trainer."

Then her laughter faded and her face clouded, "But I am not his true mistress. He is gentle and obedient, but I know he yearns for his master. Now that you are here, I think you ought to have him back."

"Majesty, I couldn't possibly…" Tamash began.

"Edmund has suggested that you have a place at court," Lucy said. "You ought to have your horse as well."

"Madam," Tamash took her hand and kissed it gallantly, "You are a true Queen. I love my horse like a brother, but perhaps we should share him."

"Shall we?" Lucy laughed, but she knew in her heart that Ashquar was never truly hers. Such a horse that had been raised from a foal by a horse whisperer like Tamash deserved to be with his true master. "Thank you, Tamash."

"My pleasure," Tamash said. "I am proud that he served you so well."

"He is as noble as his master," Lucy said with a laugh, "now; I was just going to see my brother, Peter; if you will only excuse me."

"Of course, your majesty."

Lucy glanced over her shoulder as she pushed open the door, "Ashquar is in the stables."

"Thank you, madam," Tamash bowed again and her last glimpse she saw him racing down the hallway. Lucy half smiled then crossed the room and knocked softly on Peter's door. If he were asleep…

"Come in, you're welcome," Peter's voice called from the other side. "And if you are Rabadash you are doubly welcome."

Lucy opened the door and poked her head through, "Hullo."

"Hullo!" Peter said, "Do come in, mind the mess and don't step on any of the dogs. Lion's mane, this is pretty awful. I think Susan has me here for keeps."

"Are you hurt too badly?" Lucy asked, stepping gingerly over the sleeping hounds that littered the floor. There were at least ten of them, piled atop each other, breathing easily in sleep. A giant mastiff closest to the bed raised his brindled head and growled warningly.

"Quiet, old boy," Peter said sharply and fondled the dog's flapping ears. "The worst was Susan sewing me up," Peter continued, "I think sewing is a great and fine thing and Susan is a marvelous seamstress, but I don't hold with her poking at me like I was a dress…she didn't even ask me first. Eustace and Peridan just tackled me from the front and she came up from behind and had at it…awful."

Lucy grinned and sat down at the edge of the bed. "You've got to be more careful with yourself," she tried to sound severe.

"I don't take life too seriously, nobody's ever gotten out alive," Peter replied, "I believe Aslan has a set time when I'll die and nothing I can do will stop it. It's quite simple actually."

"What happened to you, really?" Lucy asked.

Peter stared up at the ceiling and his hand trailed down to ruffle the ears of the closest hound, "Quite a bit. Ask me sometime when it's quiet and the sun is going down and I'll try to fill you in. Somehow I don't wish to talk about it right now. What happened to you?"

"I'll tell you on that quiet evening, after you've told me," Lucy replied, "It seems like a good time."

"Done," Peter said, "Wish I could trot down to the pub and get a pint of ale. Susan won't let me have anything but broth."

Lucy laughed. "Susan wants me to go to bed."

"She's probably right," Peter said, "You've been through a lot."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Lucy asked, "I found it educational and perhaps a bit tight in spots, but for the most part it was all right."

"Well, good for you," Peter said, "For the most part I find battles tedious and tiresome."

"It was that in some places," Lucy said, standing up, "But I'll go and let you rest, shall I?"

"I wish you wouldn't" Peter looked crestfallen, "I don't even want to go to sleep."

Lucy reached out and took his hand, stroking it, "remember that old lullaby you always used to sing me when I was little and had a bad dream or fell down sleepwalking?"

"Yes," Peter said quietly.

"Shall I sing it?"

"I wouldn't mind," Peter said, smiling.

"_Goodnight, my angel_

_Time to close your eyes_

_And save these questions for another day_

_I think I know what you've been asking me_

_I think you know what I've been trying to say_

_I promised I would never leave you_

_And you should always know_

_Wherever you may go_

_No matter where you are_

_I never will be far away,_"

Lucy had a beautiful voice, sweet as golden light on clear water. Peter's eyes were closed and she stroked his hand as she sang the next verse. He looked so peaceful lying there, his breathing even and slow and she realized suddenly as she stared down at him that he looked very young. She had always thought of him as the wonderful older brother, very nearly a father. Her own father she barely remembered.

"_Goodnight, my angel_

_Now it's time to sleep_

_And still so many things I want to say_

_Remember all the songs you sang for me_

_When we went sailing on an emerald bay_

_And like a boat out on the ocean_

_I'm rocking you to sleep_

_The water's dark and deep_

_Inside this ancient heart_

_You'll always be a part of me._"

He was asleep, she thought and quietly, she put his hand down and retraced her way through the sleeping hounds. At the door, she looked back; he was laying on his back, quiet, his hand just resting on the silky head of the nearest hound.

Lucy slipped through the door and closed it softly.

~o*o~

In the golden shafts that slanted through the windows, Tamash smelled the warmth of horses and saw the bands of light on curving backs. A shrill whinny echoed across the corridor and he looked to see the upraised head of his own stallion, Ashquar.

The morning light lit the stallion's eyes and a stray bit of coal black mane stuck up, caught on his excited ears. Tamash was at the stall at once, running his hands over the silken red gold coat, his fingers finding the places Ashquar loved rubbed the most; under his jaw, his ears, the length of his curving blaze.

"Ah, my brother," Tamash said as Ashquar thrust his nose in his face. "It is good to see you again."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Since the extent of my poetical ability is limited to Narnia's national anthem and ballads on sardines, the lovely song Lucy sings is not mine. _Goodnight, My Angel_ was written by Billy Joel for his daughter and The Celtic Women have a beautiful rendition of it on YouTube (that's a suggestion, by the way).

~Psyche

**Hannah Skipper:** Yes, thanks for your reviews on other stories, fanfiction sends me an email every time someone reviews. I'm so glad you like the stories (at least, I hope you do :). In our part of the world, we used to go out back and drag in a charlie brown Christmas tree, hang every ornament we had on its sagging branches and prop it up with presents. It was lovely laying under it and looking up through all the layers.

Thanks also for your suggestions. I'm afraid there are so many threads that some of them will be left dragging around on the ground after I'm done. I do need to work on the end because, unfortunately, I think this story starts with a bang and goes out with a squeal. I do promise a lot more surprises, though. :)

**Grace:** Thanks for your review! I learned to ride when I was 9 and have been riding off and on since. Most of my experience comes from being on the ground around horses since where I come from you have to pay a dollar a minute for lessons. A skin flint like me has a hard time parting from that kind of money even for horses. :) I've ridden more than 30 different horses, mostly thoroughbreds and quarter horses, so I have 30 different horsey personalities to draw from. The youngest horse I rode was a 5 year old from off the track. The scariest horse I ever rode was the calmest, grayest mare in the world; she got tangled in an extension chord, spooked and I ended up dragging along behind.

**All Of You:** Thanks very much for your concern and prayers for my Grandfather. He's doing much better and is walking around now. Thanks also for your congratulations to Rose, we both appreciate it very much!

By the way, I really am rooting for I'll Have Another to win the Preakness...though I doubt we'll have another Triple Crown (I'm the only person I know who follows horse racing...).


	63. First in War, First in Peace

First in War, First in Peace

* * *

><p><em>Horses are uncomfortable in the middle and dangerous at both ends.<em>

~ Attributed to both Christopher Stone and Ian Fleming

* * *

><p>The whole Narnian army available to them would be going, along with General Calhoun and his division. It had taken a bit of wizardry on the parts of Edmund, Eustace and Flavis to reprovision the whole army in one afternoon and night. They marched at four o'clock the following morning.<p>

Lucy had insisted on coming as well and she and Edmund had decided, though with some reservations, to bring Corin and Shasta. Susan would remain behind, as she was having serious troubles convincing Peter that he ought to stay at Cair Paravel.

Lord Peridan led, bearing the Narnian standard with the rampant lion. Behind him were two centaurs, Flavis and Ahearn, bearing the royal standards and behind them, Edmund and Lucy rode abreast, their destriers tossing their noble heads. Immediately behind them rode Corin and Shasta. Shasta was rather chagrined to find himself seated on the same blood bay mare he had ridden before.

"You see," he had whispered to Corin, "I don't _really_ know how to ride. I know how to sit a horse and that's nearly all."

"It's quite simple really," Corin said, "To begin with, loosen your reins, it's because her head's so high that she's prancing about so. She's a thoroughbred, and she'll move faster if your reins are tight then if they are long."

"It seems quite backwards to me," Shasta said apologetically.

"You'll get used to it," Corin said, grinning, "Do drop your hands, keep your fingers closed, keep your hands together. There should be a straight line from your elbow to her mouth. Nothing ruins a horse so much as a hard hand on the bit. There look! She's on the bit!"

Shasta watched in wonderment, the mare had arched her neck and rolled over the bit so that her head was perpendicular to the ground. She lifted her legs higher.

"It means she has good impulsion. But don't keep your leg on constantly, she's gone over the bit too far now. Keep your leg light."

Shasta tried his very best to ride the mare well. He glanced sideways and observed how Corin handled his chestnut, but he never saw Corin actually do anything, it seemed that he just sat and the chestnut walked and trotted at his own will. Shasta knew it was quite the opposite.

The sun seemed to rise slowly. Shasta felt mesmerized by the never-ending rising and falling of his mount. He tried to follow the conversation of the two ahead of him, but decided that perhaps it was eavesdropping. For a few happy minutes, the whole column broke into a glorious, swinging canter. Then slowed after about half an hour. They mounted the narrow road leading up a rock face towards the pass into Narnia.

To the right, they saw scaffolding high on a towering cliff.

"That's General Martin's citadel," Corin explained to Shasta.

"So that's what he's been up to, eh?" Edmund asked, grinning at Lucy.

"I suppose it might protect us from Rabadash," Lucy speculated ruefully.

"I believe it would only help if we were going to attack ourselves," Edmund said, "I thought Martin was smarter than that."

"Oh do stop!" Lucy exclaimed. "I have repented of my decision of allowing him to build a castle. What is that saying? Decide in haste and repent at leisure?"

"I believe it's '_marry_ in haste and repent at leisure'," Edmund replied, turning his horse up the pass after the others.

~o*o~

Peter got up that morning, waded through the hounds and stared out a tall window as the sun rose, tinting the distant, misty mountains with gold. He could hear Eva's high soprano as she sang out her window on the other side of the palace, welcoming the sun as she did every morning, for the sheer joy of it.

"_Open your eyes with me_

_See paradise with me_

_Awake and arise with me_."

Even now, Edmund and Lucy, not to mention Corin, were climbing the pass into Archenland. They were passing into danger and he, _he_, Peter, had let them. What was he? A king? What were the three duties of a king? First in War, First in Peace and First in the Hearts of his countrymen? Had he ever gained any of those qualities? Eva's voice, as cool as the early morning light echoed in his ears;

"_I am the dawn, I'm the new day begun_

_I bring you the morning, I bring you the sun_

_I hold back the night and I open the skies_

_I give light to the world, I give sight to your eyes."_

He turned from the window and saw the Lion's head of beaten gold, mounted on his wall. _First in War, First in Peace and First in the Hearts of his countrymen_. The second was the most difficult, the last even harder. The first was perhaps the easiest, yet he had decided not to go.

"_From the first of all time, until time is undone_

_Forever and ever and ever and ever_

_And I am the dawn and the sky and the sun_

_I am one with the One, and I am the dawn."_

More beautiful than the sun, Eva's voice drew out the last clear note and left it shimmering in the air. Peter stood frozen, listening to it as if it were a spell. At last, he turned back to the window and looked out, his hands on the sill, the wild, climbing roses dancing in the wind.

If he stayed, he would forever have a guilty conscience.

~o*o~

Eva had felt quite different; there had been no noble feelings in her heart, only an overwhelming curiosity. She had wondered quite a bit about Calormen. She had only wished that Queen Susan had asked her to go to Calormen, but she had not and that was her own decision.

Now was her chance to see a whole Calormen army and she dared not pass it up.

If she stayed, she would forever have a guilty conscience.

~o*o~

Susan knocked gently at Peter's door. There was no response. Quietly, she opened the door and peeked inside; Peter's hounds milled around, every now and then voicing their opinions and looking extremely ill used.

Susan stifled a gasp and tried to suppress a turmoil of feelings that rose up inside of her; anger, laughter, annoyance, the whole boatload.

All the sheets had been torn from Peter's bed and had been carefully knotted together to form a rope that even now was belayed to a bedpost and dangled out the window.

~o*o~

When he reached the stables, Peter asked that Ares be saddled. Ares was his great horse, tall, beautiful as night with fire in his eyes and the ends of his mane burned red by the sun. Mystic was far too spent to be ridden again for a long while.

When he reached the stables, Peter asked that Ares be saddled. Ares was his great horse, tall, beautiful as night with fire in his eyes and gait. Mystic was far too spent to be ridden again for a long while.

Peter leaned against a stall door while Ares was saddled. He felt very tired and wondered for a moment if Susan was right when she said that he was not well enough to go. The groom flashed him a quick smile and deftly groomed the stallion. Three brushes; curry, hard, soft. The hoof pick. The stallion picked up his feet at the lightest touch and held them up like a thoroughbred would. There was no hauling at tendons and punching chestnuts with this horse.

The groom flipped the embroidered saddle blanket high on the horse's back and slid it down his withers. The saddle was next, heavy, of black leather, accented with silver; the stirrups were crossed over the seat. The mohair girth swung under the stallion's belly and the groom, small though he was, stretched up on tiptoe to tighten it. The stallion's head whipped around, nipping him in the leg.

"A bit girthy, isn't he?" Peter said, taking a position at Ares' head, "Go on, tighten it, I'm in a bit of a hurry."

The girth tightened two more holes. The groom quickly fastened the breastplate in place, adjusting it to the horse's size. Now breeching and crupper, a bit more ticklish because they passed under Ares' tail.

Now the bridle. Reins over Ares' head, the halter slipped off and the groom at once had his arm looped over the stallion's nose, he jammed his thumb in the horse's mouth and in one quick movement, had the bit in his mouth and the crownpiece over his ears. He stepped back, adjusting and fastening the noseband and throatlatch. Done in exactly eight and a half minutes.

"Will you be wanting the martingale, sire?" The groom said, sliding the reins over Ares' head.

"No thank you," Peter said, "He's calmed down a bit. I don't believe I'll need it. Thank you anyway."

He took the horse himself and led him outside, almost colliding with Eva.

"Where are you going?" he asked, looking down at her.

She flushed scarlet and tried to suppress a sheepish smile, "nowhere in particular." She stared fiercely at a hoof paring that was lying on the cobblestones underfoot.

"Oh come now!" Peter said, grinning, "Out with it! Ladies don't normally go riding in sober clothes with bows on their backs."

"I might ask where you are going, sire," She replied haughtily, looking up at him.

"A king does not need to tell his subject where he is going, but the subject had jolly well better tell the king."

"But, is not a good king merely a servant of his kingdom?" Eva asked innocently.

"That's beside the point," Peter said. "Nevertheless, where I'm going is no secret…except from Susan of course…I'm heading to Archenland. Now…" he looked at her seriously, "Where are you going?"

"I-I was going to Archenland, too…" she trailed off, desperately wishing that she hadn't run into him. Now would come the royal verdict, "It will be far too dangerous, you must understand…."

"You can ride with me," Peter replied amiably, "I'd like the company."

Eva looked up at him sharply.

"No, I mean it." Peter said, "I'm not supposed to be going either, it would be hypocritical if I didn't let you go, yet went myself. So let's both not supposed to go together. I only want you to promise that you won't get anywhere near Anvard. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Eva said, grinning, "Let me just find my horse."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I guess I liked the relationship between Evan and Gavin in 'The Enchanted Isle'. Rose liked it so much she was mad when Evan turned into Eva...Oh well. The song Eva sings is not mine it is _The Sky and The Dawn and The Sun_.

~Psyche

_"To the memory of the Man, first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen."_ These words were first said by Light Horse Harry Lee, a hero and general of the American Revolution and father of Robert E. Lee, a general of another time and war. Light Horse Harry Lee composed these words for a man who can't be described by words. George Washington died at the age of 67 at Mount Vernon after bleeding himself to death (he thought it would make him better), after years of complete dedication to his country. He could have been a rich man, but he sank his time and money into the fledgling United States and in his own words, 'grew old and blind' in the service of his country. He was bulletproof, the only officer to survive Braddock's raid unharmed; two horses were shot from under him and his coat was riddled with bullet holes. George Washington held the Constitutional Convention together and was the only president to be elected by unanimous vote. There was talk of making him king, but he, thunderously, turned it down.

There are many historical figures that I tried to base Peter on, George Washington was one of them.

**Hannah Skipper:** (At least I assume you are Hannah Skipper) I'm glad there is someone else out there who follows horse racing. My mother remembers watching Secretariat run to victory in the Belmont on her little black and white television. I'll Have Another has drawn a good post position, so I think he has a good chance of pulling the same trick again. :) Coincidentally, my horseback riding instructor sold a pony to the man who owns the horse that won the Belmont last year. Pretty neat!

**Grace: **Thanks for asking, Ashquar means 'red' in Arabic. My OC always have names that mean something; Baeth, for example is Irish for 'vain and reckless'.

Sorry I had to delete this chapter, but I forgot to save my author's note before and had to rewrite it.


	64. Whiskers, Tail and Paws

Whiskers, Tail and Paws

* * *

><p><em>And Thomas answered and said unto him, "My LORD and my God."<em>

_Jesus saith unto him, "Thomas, because thou hast seen Me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed."_

~ John 20:28 – 29

* * *

><p>Aravis remained outside. She went to sit by the pool and aimlessly trailed her hand in the water. Oddly enough, the pool no longer reflected the sky, but dark shapes seemed to writhe within the depths. Aravis shook her head. There were many things about this Hermit she did not understand.<p>

"Hello again," Hwin bent her head next to Aravis. "The Hermit does serve wonderful mash. I shall be as fat as a pet pony if we remain here much longer."

"I quite agree madam," Bree's voice came from high above Aravis, "Lion's mane, that was quite a feast!"

"Why _do_ you keep saying that?" Aravis asked, staring up at Bree.

"What?" Bree asked, puzzled.

"You keep saying 'Lion's mane'," Aravis explained, "What are you referring to? The Lion Aslan?"

"Of course," Bree exclaimed, "All true Narnians swear by him."

"Is he really a Lion?" Aravis asked.

"Of course not!" Bree snorted, "Why on earth would he be a lion? You are a very silly girl, Aravis. If he's called a Lion then it means he's as strong as a Lion, or as brave as a lion, not that he _is_ a lion! Why, he'd have to be a beast and have four legs and a tail just like I do. That would be entirely disrespectful!"

"The Hermit says he's a lion," Aravis parried, "he also says that he was killed and came to life again."

"Aravis," Bree said slowly, as if he were explaining to a very small child, "that is just a fairy tale. I personally don't believe he really exists. Aslan of course is just a name that we give the goodness in life, the goodness in all of us. Perhaps Aslan is just another name for Nature. I stopped believing in a Superior Being a long time ago. If there was such a thing, he is a cruel, vindictive being. If you remember, I was stolen when I was only a little foal, a benevolent being would never have allowed such a thing to happen."

"You are angry at him," Aravis said, looking at him quizzically, "Yet you don't believe he exists?"

"Aravis, I believe you are far too young to understand," Bree said, feeling slightly uneasy himself, "Like I was saying, If he really did exist he would be good and loving and bad things wouldn't happen to us-"

"Bree!" Aravis breathed, her face had gone deathly pale. Hwin snorted, her head high.

"Don't interrupt, Aravis!" Bree snapped. He was just getting warmed up.

"Bree, there is a huge lion right behind you!" Aravis spoke very softly, hardly daring to move her lips, "It just jumped over the wall!"

"A lion can't jump that high," Bree replied, "Do stop it and listen-"

But he froze, for at that moment, he felt warm breath on his neck and shoulder, and a whisker touched his back. Slowly, he turned his head and saw, through his wide white rimmed eyes, a lion.

None of them, as they stood there staring, ever doubted that this was _the_ Lion. Aslan.

"Sire," Hwin dropped her head, "Sire, eat me first. I feel it would be an honor…"

She trailed off.

"Dearest Daughter," Aslan spoke, almost purring. "I knew you would not be long in coming to me. You had not seen me, yet believed."

Then he turned and fixed Bree with his golden eyes, somehow sad, "Truly, my poor, frightened horse, I exist, I am a beast, I have lived, I have died and lived again. See my four legs, here is my tail, see my side; there is the place that the witch's knife stabbed me.

"You were stolen many years ago, so you might help a young boy, a girl and a mare escape to freedom. Shasta reached King Lune yesterday, because of that many lives have been saved."

"Aslan," Bree was shaking, "My Lord."

"Bree, because you have seen Me, you have believed: blessed are those that have not seen, and yet have believed," Aslan turned to Aravis, "I have been calling your name for a long while, child."

"But sir, I did not hear you," Aravis said.

"In order to hear, you must listen."

"Yes sir," Aravis said. "I will listen."

"And I will call," Aslan replied, looking deep into her eyes as if reading the thoughts of her heart. At last, he turned to face them all and his voice was joyful, "We will all meet again! Farewell! But before then, you shall have visitors!"

He turned and in a quick fluid motion, leaped over the green wall. All at once, he was gone.

* * *

><p>Susan had felt very empty after they had all gone. Half in a daze, she had wondered the halls of Cair Paravel. She had found Eustace and told him what had befallen Peter.<p>

"Do you want me to go after him?" Eustace asked.

"No," Susan said, "He did what he thought best, It isn't for me to tell him not to."

"I could still go and see that he doesn't get into any trouble," Eustace said hopefully.

"I can't have everyone deserting me!" Susan exclaimed, smiling. "No, you shall stay here with me. Shall we play chess?"

"Chess?" Eustace asked.

"Of course," Susan said, "I feel I must do something to do with strategy if they are all fighting a battle without me."

"Very well," Eustace said, "Where shall we play it?"

"Upstairs of course, in the royal sitting room," Susan said decisively. "I can think better there."

The chess table was sitting by the window with a vase of flowers on it. Eustace moved the flowers and Susan began to line up the chess pieces. It was Peter and Edmund's favorite set, half the pieces made from solid gold and the other half made of sterling silver. The chessboard itself was made of white and black marble and cedar wood.

"Your move first," Eustace said. "You're silver."

Susan moved the pawn in front of the castle; it was always her first move. Eustace moved his knight. The ruby eyes on the horse sparkled.

Quite suddenly, the door opened. They both looked around to see a bent figure shrouded with a dark cloak.

"Who are you?" Susan exclaimed.

The figure turned to face them, then suddenly stood tall and flung the cloak away. They saw that it was an impossibly beautiful woman, arrayed in living green.

Susan and Eustace stood.

"Who are you?" Susan demanded.

"You do not know?" the woman smiled. "I thought perhaps your brother would have told you."

"Kloris?" Susan asked, "But you were dead…"

"Who ever heard of an enchantress who really died? They always come back to haunt you," Kloris' eyes flashed. "Even Jadis is not really dead. But I have come and I shall have my revenge! Your brother ruined me! He caused all my work to crumble to nothing. Now you shall die."

"Over my dead body," Eustace said stepping forward, dearly wishing he had his sword.

"Yes, perhaps it will be," Kloris replied.

"But why would you kill me?" Susan asked.

"Revenge, have I not told you?" Kloris exclaimed, "If I killed him, then it would be too swift, I should not be able to savor his pain, but if I kill you-" she looked Susan in the eyes and Susan returned the look steadily, "I should at least be partially revenged."

"Your death shall be slow," Kloris mused, "I still have with me the last of my magic and I will use it…but we shall not say I killed you in cold blood…I shall pose on you a riddle and in three days time, if you have not found the answer, then you shall be mine."

"What is the riddle?" Susan asked quietly. "I shall find an answer."

Kloris laughed dryly, then threw back her head, "What is it that a woman most desires?"

"I shall tell you," Susan said, "In three days time as you said."

"In three days, at this time, we meet again." Kloris laughed again, then swept her cloak about her and vanished.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** You'll recognize the riddle from _The Marriage of Sir Gawain_ where King Arthur is threatened and must find the answer of a riddle in three days time. The Loathly Lady knows the answer, but won't tell Arthur until he promises that she will marry one of his knights. Hence, the marriage of Sir Gawain.

~Psyche

**Hannah Skipper: **As usual, thank you for all your reviews! You bring up so many interesting ideas! I do think Eva and Aravis would get on rather well, they'd probably have great fun making trouble together, especily if Corin got in on it. :)

I don't want to say who's staying home and who isn't because I don't want to give anything away, but things will start speeding up again. Tamash is not going to have a showdown with Rabadash, partly because it didn't occur to me to do one and partly because Tamash is going to be needed in other places.

And I'll Have Another won! Rose and I both squealed when we saw him pull ahead! I have high hopes for the Belmont because its a longer track and I'll Have Another did much better with the longer track at Churchill Downs. The only factor I'm worried about is Union Rags because he's a distance horse. I'll be very happy if I'll Have Another gets an outside post position like in the last two races. ;) Even if he doesn't win the Triple Crown, he'll still be the eighth horse to have won the first two legs since Affirmed. And Lava Man is so funny, I was shocked to find out that they were using him as a lead pony! He acted up more than I'll Have Another!

**Grace:** I'm so glad you like the story! It isn't too, too much longer and hopefully you'll like the end. :)

**Libby: **Thanks very much for your review! I'm very glad you think its well written, sometimes I'm afraid it isn't :) I'm guessing there are about sixteen chapters left, but my chapters are notoriously short, so you won't be suffering through _much_ more. ;)


	65. Desires of the Kingdom

Desires of the Kingdom

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><p><em>Riding:<em> The art of keeping a horse between you and the ground.

~ Anonymous

* * *

><p>It was about eleven o'clock that the army left the pass behind. Edmund ordered a halt five miles from Anvard. They could not see the city, but they could see the hill that concealed it. They were now very near their goal.<p>

"There's smoke above the city," Lucy said quietly.

"I know it," Edmund said gravely. "I fear we are too late."

"So do I," Lucy replied.

"General Longsight!" Edmund called to an eagle circling overhead. It circled again, banked to port and landed, talons outstretched, on the ground before Edmund's horse.

"At your command, Sire!" the general called.

"Take your best men with you and go ahead to Anvard, find the positions of the enemy, their strength, their weakness," Edmund said. "I wish to know everything you can find."

"Aye sire!" Longsight, with a few running steps, took to the air and circled again, then dashed straight as an arrow towards the horizon, uttering short, sharp cries. Six raptors darted after him.

~o*o~

The moment the column halted, Corin grabbed the bridle of Shasta's horse and led it out of earshot of Edmund and Lucy.

"What are you doing?" Shasta asked as Corin continued to lead the horse farther down the column.

"Getting away," Corin said. "Edmund's absolutely convinced that I shouldn't fight in the battle, but I want to, don't you?"

"Um…" Shasta said, "Well, I suppose…"

"All we have to do is find you a hauberk, then we can go," Corin continued. "You can use my sword. I'm going to use my scimitar. It's proper, don't you think? Use their own weapon against them?"

"Go?" Shasta asked. His mouth felt dry. Fight in the battle?

"It would be jolly bad form if we didn't," Corin continued.

They had reached a section of the column that was made up of supply wagons, Corin dismounted and swaggered nonchalantly over to one of them; fortunately, this was one of those carts pulled by a talking horse, so there was no driver. The horse was deep in conversation with another when Corin lifted the canvas tarp over the back of the cart and squirmed in. His legs thrashed over the side as he sorted through the things he found there. A moment later, he slipped back out, clutching an armful of chainmail.

He walked back to his horse, mounted and casually led Shasta's horse into the woods away from the army. Finally he stopped and handed the hauberk to Shasta.

"What do I do with it?" Shasta asked.

"Put it on of course," Corin said, "That's right, over your head. Now we must just get away. Lucky I know this place like the back of my hand…or the front, which ever."

* * *

><p>"Oh what am I to do!" Susan exclaimed, burying her face in her hands.<p>

"Take heart!" Eustace exclaimed. "By Aslan's grace, we'll find the answer. What is it you most desire?"

"I wish I knew the answer."

"I mean, before that," Eustace said.

"I suppose I wished that Peter, Edmund and Lucy would come back safe and sound."

"Before that?"

"I wished that we would all leave Calormen safely…"

"Before that?"

"What came before that?" Susan asked. "Oh, I remember, I wanted to take down all the tapestries in the hallway before the throne room and rotate them with the tapestries in the hallway before the main staircase. No one would let me."

"I think this is going to be harder than I thought," Eustace said, "But perhaps, if we find enough desires we can boil them all together and get one definitive answer."

"We must start with someone," Susan said, she reached out and rang the bell. Five seconds later a serving girl, about twelve, entered and curtseyed deeply.

"What's your name, child?" Susan asked gently.

"If you please milady, its Molly," the maid looked shyly up through her eyelashes.

"Molly," Susan said, "What is it that you most desire?"

Molly's head snapped up and she stared wide-eyed at the queen, "Milady?"

"What is it you most desire?" Susan asked again, "What is the deepest longing of your heart?"

"Milady, I-I don't like to say," Molly blushed deeply.

"I beg you to tell me," Susan said, "don't be afraid."

"I'm afraid you might be angry, milady."

"I promise whatever you say, I won't be angry," Susan replied.

"It's only a fancy, it won't ever come true," Molly kicked at the rug, "I've always wished to marry the High King."

The corner of Susan's mouth twitched and Eustace buried his face in his hands. Molly stared fiercely at the ground.

"Thank you Molly," Susan said, smiling, "Will you go out now and tell every lady or girl that you meet to come to me?"

"Yes milady," Molly whispered, she curtsied and fled from the room.

"Well, well," Eustace said sauntering back across the room, his hands in his pockets, "I'm sure that's the desire of half the young ladies in the kingdom!"

"Perhaps the desire of every woman is to be married," Susan said bleakly, "But I highly doubt that, I have met plenty of perfectly happy spinsters. I'm one myself, I've have never wished to marry anyone."

Presently, the door opened and a tall Centauride with long blond hair and a golden coat entered the room.

"Erin!" Susan said.

"Milady," Erin bowed, as Centaurides aren't known for curtsying. "I was told you wished to see me?"

"Yes," Susan said, "I did. Tell me, Erin, what is it you most desire?"

Erin paused, struck by this, "Perhaps most of all I wish my husband, Ahearn would return. He is sorely missed."

"Thank you, Erin," Susan said quietly.

"Milady, may I ask the reason of this question?" Erin asked.

Susan glanced down at her hands, then looked up again, "I have been asked to find the answer of this riddle: What is it a woman most desires?"

"That _is_ difficult," Erin said, "Have you an idea of the answer?"

"No, I am completely baffled," Susan said sadly.

"I shall help if I can," Erin said helpfully.

"Thank you," Susan said, "It would be very kind of you if you did."

~o*o~

For Baeth, at the Marshes far away in the north of Narnia, time had slipped by, halfway between waking and sleeping. He felt cold, clammy hands on his face and tea spooned into to him and then he had slept, or not, he never knew. He remembered watching the wind play with the flap of the wigwam, coming and going. The wind came low over the still, gray water, putting cold lips against the rattling reeds, and playing a haunting, tuneless song over the forsaken marsh.

Xenon did not wake; he had not woken since the battle.

"Her hold is even stronger over him than you."

The voice was sweet and low and he looked up in the face of a beautiful lady who smoothed back his hair with gentle hands. He half realized in a throbbing, half-alive whirl that he was being lifted up and set down again. There were tall winsome people about him, their clothes strange and scented like irises.

"Where are you taking me?" did he only think it, or did his fumbling tongue really form the words?

"Away, where you will get well," the voice reassured him.

"Xenon, too?"

"Both of you."

"Is this death? Are you taking us to Aslan's Country?"

"Death has come to the door, but we sent him away, your time has not yet come." Golden hair veiled his vision, "When that time comes, Aslan will bring you Himself."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The riddle is quite a simple one and I've tried to state the answer in as many ways as possible before the final answer is revealed.

At the moment I'm in a bad mood. I poured Kerosene in our lawn mower...and I haven't even finished the lawn...and I'm having a party on the weekend. :(

~Psyche

**Hannah Skipper: **As usual, thanks for all your wonderful reviews! Hopefully the story will answer most, if not all of your questions. :) I'm so glad you like the twists. I can't remember if there are anymore, but hopefully there are. :)


	66. His Goosecap Highness

His Goose-cap Highness

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><p><em>There comes a time in every rightly constructed boy's life that he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure<em>

~ Mark Twain

* * *

><p>Edmund remained on his horse, staring through a telescope at the horizon. He hardly noticed when Lucy made an annoyed sound and rode away.<p>

Five minutes later she was back, face white.

"Edmund!" something in her voice made him look around sharply.

"What is it?"

"I can't find his goose cap highness, he's completely gone!" Her mare tossed her head. "Far worse, he's taken Shasta with him!"

"Corin gone?" Edmund rolled his eyes heavenward, "I'd sooner have a squadron of hornets in my command as him. Jafa!"

A hawk, red tail spread, appeared from nowhere and plummeted from the air. Edmund held out his hand. He wore leather gauntlets, so the talons of the hawk did not hurt him.

"Sire?" Jafa fluffed his feathers.

"Jafa," Edmund said, "Prince Corin and Shasta have just vanished. Think you Elah and Ergo could find them?"

"Certainly, sire!"

Edmund launched the hawk expertly into the air and watched him flip out of sight to their rear in search of his brothers.

A robin that had been sitting on a tree branch to Edmund's right suddenly fluttered into the air. Edmund quickly offered his hand and the robin landed.

"Chibb!" Edmund said, smiling.

"Sire!" Chibb bobbed a bow, "I request permission to seek Prince Corin and his friend."

Edmund shook his head, "Too dangerous. I wouldn't risk the savor of my life and the lives of my siblings on such a mission."

"Begging your pardon, sire," Chibb replied, "But nobody notices a robin and robins can go where other birds can't"

Edmund nodded, "Chibb, if you wish to go, you may. Aslan be with you."

Chibb bobbed again, then took to the air in a shower of feathers.

Edmund caught one and looked at it, "I always wondered if he had lice."

"Edmund!" Lucy exclaimed. "What if he heard you?"

"He didn't," Edmund said, squinting up at the robin, now but a spec in the sky. Another spec, a bigger one, met the smaller one; they saluted by flipping in the air. The larger spec dove and turned into a hawk, coming at a blinding speed.

Again, Edmund held up his hand and the hawk landed gracefully.

"Sire!"

"What have you learned, Aquila?"

"The enemy has occupied the town square and we have reason to believe that Rabadash and many of his men are in the block to the east, at the crossing of Oak Street and Broad Way."

"Thank you, Aquila," Edmund said, launching the hawk into the air. He held up his hand and behind him he heard squeaking and jangling as men mounted their horses.

"Yo!" he hollered and dropped his hand. The column started forward.

A horse's hooves pounded up behind him and General Calhoun fell in next to him.

"Orders, sire?" General Calhoun asked.

"My plan is very straight forward, simple and probably isn't the way to go about it," Edmund said, "But we'll try it anyway. We'll split the army into three groups and surround them. General, I want you to take your division to the west of the city, Peridan," Peridan glanced over his shoulder, "I want you to take C company and come in from the southeast. I'll come in from the north; with A. Lucy you're with me." He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a gleaming gold chronometer. He flipped it open.

"It's eleven fifteen now…take at least twenty minutes to get into position…" Edmund looked up, "We'll all converge on the city at eleven forty-five. Get it?"

"Certainly," General Calhoun replied promptly, saluting.

"Got it," Peridan added hurriedly.

"Good, any comments or questions?" Edmund inquired.

"I assume once we're in we do as we think best?" Peridan asked.

"Exactly," Edmund said, "Though do adhere to the wisdom of your generals. Anything else?"

They shook their heads.

"Excellent!" Edmund grinned, "Get to it!"

Peridan and General Calhoun wheeled their horses and galloped back. Edmund heard their voices.

"Courageous company! Fall out!...Eagle division! Fall out!"

There was clanking, a horse whinnied and the army split in three.

* * *

><p>King Peter and the Lady Eva rode hard, but not too hard. Peter found the movement of riding almost too much to bear.<p>

"Are you sure you're quite all right, your majesty?" Eva asked when she saw him favoring his right side.

"Fine," Peter said shortly and wished for Mystic's smoother gaits.

"May I ask…what you plan to do once you get there?" Eva asked.

"What did _you_ plan?" Peter asked, then said pointedly, "I see you have your bow."

"I wanted to watch, from a distance," Eva smiled, "As for my bow, I've often heard that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. You're wearing armor and mail yourself, your highness."

"Bloodthirsty creature."

"Not really," Eva said quickly, "I really want to see Rabadash myself."

"I'd like to too," Peter grunted, "At the pointy end of a sword."

There was silence for a little while.

"There's the pass ahead," Eva said helpfully.

"I see it," Peter replied.

* * *

><p>That day, they questioned as many ladies of the castle as they could. All the answers were vastly different and Susan's hopes plummeted. Equus had come and gone, saying that he would gallop south to seek the answer.<p>

"We'll have to ride out into the city," Eustace said at last, rising from the chess table where he had been absently mindedly playing with himself.

"I fear we will never find the answer," Susan said softly, "I begin to wonder if there _is_ an answer."

A knock came at the door.

"Come in!" Susan called.

The door opened and Tamash entered and bowed gallantly.

"Tamash," Susan said, "How lovely to see you!"

"I perceive your majesty is conducting a most remarkable interview with every maiden of the court." Tamash said, "May I perhaps induce you to inform me the cause? You must admit, it is most anomalous."

"I have been asked a riddle and I must have the answer in three days time," Susan said heavily.

"Pray, what is this conundrum?" Tamash asked.

Susan smiled, "what is it that every woman most desires?"

"This is indeed a difficulty!" Tamash exclaimed, "Perhaps baffling for even the most erudite of men. Women are indeed mysterious."

"Do not be so hard on us," Susan said, laughing, "believe you me; men are equally as baffling to us."

Tamash bowed again, smiling, "I imagine now that you have questioned every lady of the court you plan to ride into the city on this quest. I offer my humble person as a bodyguard."

"Thank you Tamash," Susan said rising, "I believe Eustace and I would be glad of the company, we'll be going out this afternoon."

"As soon as possible," Eustace cut in.

Susan laughed, "As soon as possible. I'll go put on something I can ride in."

Both bowed as she swept from the room and they heard her silvery laughter echoing through the hall. Eustace sighed and glanced at Tamash.

"The stakes," he said heavily, "are higher than she told you. We must find the answer to this riddle, or she will lose her life."

"You are jesting!" the blood drained from Tamash's face.

"I only wish I were."

~o*o~

Susan, strangely, was unworried as she walked down the hall, noting as she passed a tall, deep-set window that the sun was high and bright. They would have a beautiful ride, she thought. She stopped for some time in the weaving rooms and helped a very young squirrel unravel one of the lines of weaving on her loom, then she continued on to her rooms.

As she opened the door to the royal sitting room, she heard a soft shriek and when she looked inside she saw a young girl clutching a sheet of paper, staring at her wide eyed. Immediately the girl sank into a deep curtsey.

It took a moment for Susan to recognize the girl, too many things had happened too quickly. That dark hair and those dark eyes were strangely familiar and the name that belonged to them was tantalizingly close.

"It's Dara, isn't it?" Susan asked at last, then knew at once that she was right.

"Yes, your majesty," Dara whispered.

"What were you doing?" Susan asked kindly.

"I was…if it pleases your majesty…I was dusting the room," Dara replied, so quietly Susan barely heard her.

"Well it does need it," Susan said. "I'm sorry for startling you."

Dara looked up quickly, half frightened. She had never, ever been apologized to before by a Queen.

"What's the piece of paper?" Susan inquired; her eyes going to the paper clutched quivering in Dara's hands. "Might I see?"

"I'd…rather not," Dara whispered.

"Of course," Susan said with a smile, "now if you will excuse me, I'll go get dressed."

She turned away, but Dara's voice stopped her before she was halfway across the room.

"You can see it, your majesty, if you'd like."

Susan turned back again, "I would like to."

Dara held it out in a trembling hand and Susan took it.

It was a rough drawing of a women done in a very few lines with swipes of a quill pen. There was a wild, frolicsomeness about it, a beauty in those few careless lines all rolling together into a picture. The woman was very beautiful, Susan saw, with dark untamed hair and big dark eyes…then Susan blushed as she recognized it as herself.

"Do you like it?" Dara ventured to ask.

"It's lovely," Susan said. "You have great talent."

"Would you like to have it?"

"I would love to have it," Susan said. "But do you really want to part with it?"

"You're the first person who has liked my drawings," Dara said softly. "In Calormen the headman whipped me when he saw me drawing, then burned them all. He could have burned part of me and it would not have hurt as much. I've so wanted to learn how to draw."

"I think you do know," Susan said gently, then paused as an idea occurred to her, "Dara, you have only had a short time in Narnia and have not yet chosen a profession. How would it be if you took your drawing to our court painter? Perhaps after a short trial, he would agree to take you on as an apprentice. Would you like that?"

Dara's eyes lit and her face was transformed, "Oh your majesty! How wonderful you are!"

"It's not me, Dara!" Susan said, laughing. "It is you who must be wonderful. You must be willing to work very hard, because our court painter only takes the best to be his apprentices. I think you are."

"I will," Dara said. "I know what it is to work hard. Learning to paint will not be work, it will be a dream come true."

Susan crossed the room to the writing desk, "I will write you a letter to take to our court painter. You can go down at once if you would like."

Susan pulled a sheet of paper out of a drawer and Dara looked over her shoulder as she wrote.

"There," Susan said, dripping red wax onto the folded letter, then stamping it with her seal. "That should do."

"I shall never be able to thank you enough!" Dara breathed as she took it.

"Well, do not disappoint me, Dara," Susan said with a laugh, "Now I must go. I was just going to go riding."

She was just closing the door to her room when she called Dara again.

"Your majesty?" Dara asked.

"What is it you most desire?" Susan inquired.

"You have given it to me, your majesty."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **The lawn mower is fixed, thank goodness. The resident mechanical genius (aka: my father) declared that the spark plugs needed to be cleaned out, so while he was doing that, I was attempting to mow the lawn with an old reel mower dating from the 30's. My brush with the past was not pleasant, the old chopper gave a closer shave than the new one, but it looked as though I had attempted to cut the grass with scissors while I had my eyes closed. I've been cured of pouring unidentified fluids into lawn mowers.

~Psyche

**Hannah Skipper:** Well, I'm glad you _are _reading fanfiction! Thanks for your reviews as usual!

If you do come up with the answer to the riddle, please don't say (just in case somebody else hasn't). My version of the answer is probably slightly different from what everybody is expecting, but I think it works quite well.

Some people are not very fond of the genie...But I'll think about it.

vote counted.

Oh, and eagle scouts? I laughed at that one!


	67. Anvard

Anvard

* * *

><p><em>Boys are beyond the range of anybody's sure understanding, at least when they are between the ages of 18 months and 90 years.<em>

~ James Thurber

* * *

><p>It was about this time that Aravis was again sitting next to the round pool in the middle of the Hermit's dwelling. For some time, they had all sought to be alone, Bree had gone out and hadn't come back, Hwin had grazed, but only halfheartedly and Aravis had sat beside the pool, staring into the depths.<p>

Her mind turned back to Aslan and all that he had said and did. Afterwards, Bree had seemed almost shattered, Hwin was quiet and Aravis… she hadn't known what she'd felt. Only now, after all this time, was she finally able to put her thoughts in to words. It seemed suddenly to her that her life had been a line of beads, all different colors and different shapes; she had thought all this time that these beads were ordered to her directions, but now, in a burst of understanding, she saw the thread running through them. It was Aslan and none else.

He was the one who had caused her to want to run away, he was the one who had joined them with Shasta and Bree; he was the one who had driven them on until they thought they would die, then showed them that they could still do more.

"It's strange, isn't it," Bree's voice said suddenly and Aravis looked up to see him standing next to her, an odd look in his eyes. "It's strange to find out that you're not the one in control of your life after all."

"Could we really be?" Hwin asked gently. "It seems to me that it's an awfully arrogant thing to think what with being so small and insignificant. The world's an awfully big place and we're awfully small."

"Yet he seems to care about us so much," Aravis said. "We're like ants that can't see beyond our anthill, yet he cares all the same."

"I feel quite undone," Bree declared.

"Don't we all?" Hwin asked.

"Well, I suppose you would, too," Bree admitted and Aravis watched them as they wandered off to graze.

Aravis turned back to the pool, there was something very strange about it, she thought. The surface was flat and deep down, she thought she saw bright blurry shapes and flashes of color, the water wasn't murky, it was clear as glass, yet no matter how she looked, she couldn't see the bottom. Like Aslan, she thought. At the moment she was finding parallels to him everywhere.

"Hello daughter," the Hermit stood over her, "Looking into my pool, I see. Do you see anything?"

"Only dark shapes and blobs moving about," Aravis said.

"That's the Narnian army," the Hermit said. "I see that they have surrounded Anvard and are moving in."

Aravis looked up at him sharply, "How do you mean sir? You can see all that in this pool?"

"I can," the Hermit sat down on the grass next to her, "This pool was a gift from Aslan. In it, I can see anywhere in the world, from down even farther south than Calormen to Narnia and the North. On good days, if the sun is shining at the right angle, I can even see other worlds, though I understand them not."

"What's happening now, please?" Intrigued, Hwin, followed by Bree, stepped closer and peered into the depths of the pool.

"As I said before, the Narnian Army is moving in from three ways, they've completely surrounded the city and have begun to move toward the heart. Rabadash must be very ill advised; the Calormens seem to be unaware of the Narnians. Oh, I see now! They are having a huge ox roast in the town square, they're making a lot of smoke."

"I only hope the Narnians can defeat them," Bree said, stamping his hoof, "it's tricky fighting in a city."

"The Narnians are approaching the square," the Hermit continued, "and Calormens on the rooftops are showering a murderous fire of arrows at them. The Narnians seem to be gaining refuge in houses. By the Lion!"

"What is it?" Aravis exclaimed.

"Two boys, Prince Corin and your Shasta, are in the city! They're not with the Narnians at all! They're riding down an ally; around the next corner is a group of Calormens!"

* * *

><p>It was a little earlier then this that Jafa, Elah and Ergo finally spotted Corin and Shasta. They were riding through the outskirts of the city and had unwittingly managed to find the only gap in the Narnian lines.<p>

Jafa signaled to the others and swooped straight towards the distant horsemen. Corin saw him and held out his gloved hand to Jafa's talons.

Jafa settled and stared at the Prince indignantly, "My dear Prince-"

"I know what you're going to say," Corin said, "We're not supposed to be here and we ought to go back, but I want to fight in the battle. I'm going to prove to Edmund that he gravely misjudged me."

"I believe he didn't misjudge you in the least," Jafa fluffed his feathers and glared at Corin. "I beg you to reconsider and leave the city. It's dangerous!"

Corin grinned, "Not a chance. I'm not going to pass this up."

Shasta looked at him miserably, but Corin didn't notice.

Sighing, Jafa took to the air, circled once and beat away; Elah and Ergo met him at once. They circled one another slowly.

"Well?" Elah asked.

"No go," Jafa said, "we'd best tell King Edmund at once."

"What are we waiting for?" Ergo rose higher and the other two followed him in loose formation.

The city fell away below them. To them, it was very large, but compared to Calormen, it was but a fly spec. Cair Anvard was to their right, they could see a mass of refugees from the city huddled in the courtyards. To the left was the rolling countryside, a myriad of patchwork fields, stone walls and neat little cottages.

"There are two horsemen quite near!" Ergo exclaimed, they all wheeled to look. The two horsemen really weren't quite near, at least, they were about three miles away, but for a hawk three miles is nothing.

Elah banked suddenly, then resumed his course, "Is that not the High King?" he exclaimed, "I'd know that helmet anywhere! The one with the red horsehair crest!"

Jafa rose higher, "I believe you are right, I'll go to him, you two find King Edmund and tell him about the Prince."

The Jafa peeled away from the other two and dove toward the distant horsemen. They approached at a blinding speed.

* * *

><p>Susan dressed in a plain dark blue kirtle over her white shift. She found a dark gray cloak, then made her way out of the castle to the courtyard. Eustace and Tamash stood waiting for her, holding their horses and her black mare, Ophelia.<p>

Susan took Ophelia's bridle and looked into the mare's deep, liquid eyes.

"And what is it you most desire?" Susan asked softly. The mare's finely veined ear pricked towards her and her soft nose touched Susan's chin gently. "A swift gallop? A bucket of oats? A lump of sugar?"

"I think she most desires that you get on her," Eustace suggested, "May I?"

Eustace helped Susan into the saddle, then mounted himself.

"Where shall we go first?" Eustace asked.

"Just into the city," Susan said, "But if it weren't so late in the day I'd ride west to Elphame, Equus suggested that I should see the fair folk. If anyone knows the answer they would…perhaps the River god would know…"

* * *

><p>Baeth was in a room, of this he was sure. There was ivy around the window and it blew in and out like the flap of the marshwiggle's hut. There was sunlight. There had never been sunlight at the marsh and here it spread through the room in silent bars, lighting the intertwining branches that seemed to hold up the ceiling. He never knew how many days had passed, he only knew the pain and darkness and every now and then a flash of light and the soft rustling of the ivy as it blew in and out and in again.<p>

He knew he was dying, yet somehow it didn't frighten him. Death called him with a gentle voice and Aslan's face seemed laid in relief by the sunlight on the earthen wall. His only regret was that he could not say goodbye to his brother, Peridan, and to his sister, Clyte, and to the High King himself.

There came the worst night of all when he fought with the blankets and in the darkness he saw sharp rays of silver forming into a chair. That night his fever broke and morning found him awake and really aware for the first time.

The lady with golden hair was by his bedside, making him drink a cup of something sweet as a song and warm as a beautiful thought.

"We almost thought you wouldn't pull through, Baeth," she said, her smile lightening the room.

"How is Xenon?" he asked. "How is the High King? Did he make it to Cair Paravel?"

"Xenon, alas, is still beyond my help," the lady said. "And the High King rode to Cair Paravel. He is in Archenland now, fighting another battle."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I, um, actually wasn't trying to make any classical allusions with the part in a previous chapter where Baeth and Xenon are carried off. MCH made a wonderful point about Iris, the messenger goddess, but I'd forgotten about her when I wrote that part and only stuck in the bit about irises because I had been down smelling ours. :) Anyway, the allusion works all the same.

~Psyche

**Hannah Skipper:** There'll be more about bird handling later on. We went to watch some people fly a hawk last year and I couldn't help but put in a bit with hawks, it was so fascinating. Glad you found out what 'Goose-cap' means. It's something along the lines of 'Scallywag' or 'Idiot'...

As usual, thanks for your review!

**The Rest of You: **I will try to reply to your reviews as soon as possible. There have been lots of things happening. I'll not be stopping school for the summer and there are relatives visiting and we've been going places...you get the point. I do read all your reviews carefully and appreciate them as much as ever. :)


	68. To the Rescue

To the Rescue

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><p><em>Whatever you are, be a good one.<em>

~ Abraham Lincoln

* * *

><p>"Hawk," Peter said, glancing upward. "I'd know that red tail anywhere, it's Jafa."<p>

He pulled Ares to a halt and Eva followed his example.

Jafa circled once, then landed on Peter's outstretched arm.

"Your Highness!" Jafa bobbed nobly.

"Hello, Jafa," Peter said, "How'd you know it was me?"

"Sire," Jafa said, "We all recognize your helmet."

"Eh?" Peter said, thoughtfully fingering the long red horsehair crest where it hung down his back, "I rather do like it"

"It looks like a hair extension," Eva said scathingly.

"How has the army been succeeding?" Peter asked, becoming serious.

"They have just converged upon the city," Jafa replied, "they have driven the enemy to the heart of the city and the enemy has taken refuge in houses around the town square…I fear it will be difficult to uproot them."

Peter nodded.

"I have one other bit of information you might find useful," Jafa sighed, "Prince Corin and his friend Shasta are in the city. There is a gap in the Narnian lines and Prince Corin seems to have stumbled across it. He is in mortal danger."

Peter sat back as if he had been struck, "Seems fortunate I happened along. Friend Jafa, think you can lead the way?"

"Of course," Peter launched Jafa and watched him circle, then turned to Eva, "You with me?"

Eva wasn't sure whether she ought to roll her eyes at him or stick out her tongue. In the end she did both.

Peter laughed, "Better have your bow ready, here," he handed her a long dagger in a sheath, "Keep that by, but stay back. If anything goes wrong, ride for it."

He spurred his horse into a gallop in swift pursuit of the all ready distant hawk.

~o*o~

Corin watched the hawk soar into the air, then urged his horse forward.

"Where are we going now?" Shasta asked hesitantly.

"To find Calormens, of course," Corin said.

The horses' hooves echoed hollowly off the cobblestones and the stone walls of the houses lining the road. It was a narrow road, leading downward. Quite suddenly, they rounded a corner. There was a sharp neigh of a horse…and a group of Calormens seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Suddenly everything seemed to be happening at once. Shasta was dimly aware that Corin had drawn his scimitar and had decapitated the lead Calormen just as he was drawing his own scimitar.

Shasta was struggling at his sword also, but he had accidently fastened it on the wrong side, so he had to draw it with his left hand. Much to his dismay, it wouldn't come. He hauled at it with fumbling fingers and looked up quickly. A Calormen was riding straight for him, scimitar raised. Shasta redoubled his efforts in an attempt to pull the sword loose…but it was too late, he watched with horrified fascination as the scimitar flashed down in a smooth arc, gleaming in the sun. He wondered in a split second what it would be like to be killed. But he wasn't.

The Calormen seemed to stop in midair as an arrow magically appeared in his throat. He tumbled backwards from his horse and the scimitar clattered still on the cobblestones.

"Well shot Eva!"

Shasta glanced behind him as a man, lightly armored, with sword upraised, thundered by on a great black horse, the red horsehair plume of his helmet streaming behind him.

After him came a lady with hair quite the same color as her chestnut steed. She had dropped her reins and was just drawing her bow taut to loose another arrow. Her face was white and her eyes were very wide. She let go of the string and the arrow whistled overhead like a giant hornet.

Shasta looked to his sword again and realized with rising shame, that there was a leather guard to keep the sword in the sheath. Once this was out of the way, he pulled the sword loose and waved it over his head.

~o*o~

Shooting the Calormen was perhaps the hardest thing Eva had ever done in her life. She knew when she pulled her bowstring to her ear that her shot would kill him, but the very thought of snuffing out a human life, even if it is justly deserved, is very hard.

Her next shot got the next Calormen nearest Shasta. She had thought to aim at the Calormen Corin was battling, but she did not trust her skill that much. She might as easily kill Corin as the Calormen.

The next moment her world turned upside down. Her horse grunted, then fell in mid canter. For one moment, the world turned slow and Eva watched the cobblestones coming nearer. She shifted her weight back and expected her horse to recover himself, but he did not and she barely had time to slip free of the sidesaddle and struggle out of the way as her horse crashed over on his side. An arrow protruded from his chest.

Eva struggled to her feet, stumbled backwards, tripped and sat down suddenly. She had hit hard and her wrists hurt terribly. Somehow, she had dropped her bow and she darted up again to grab it before Ares completely trampled it.

"Quick!"

Eva spun around, then ducked as a sword came whistling through the air, nearly relieving her of her head.

"Sorry!" Shasta said, visions of Eva's head rolling under the horses' hooves crowding into his brain, "Don't really know how to use it…get up quick, behind me!"

Eva grabbed his saddle, hopped up and down a few times, then pulled herself up. For one moment she was half way over the horse's back behind the saddle, thrashing her legs for dear life. Then Shasta grabbed the quiver strapped across her back and hauled with all his might. She flung a leg over the horse's back and grabbed Shasta around the waist.

"Thanks!" she gasped.

"One good turn deserves another," Shasta panted and nearly swept his mare's ears off as he tried to turn her head and hold his sword at the same time.

Eva reached forward and pulled the sword out of his hand, "I'll hold the sword and you ride the horse."

"Right," Shasta said, successfully turning the horse back towards the battle.

* * *

><p>"What's happening? What's happening?" Aravis very nearly fell into the pool as she attempted to see what the Hermit saw, "Wait! What's that splash of red?"<p>

"That's the High King! Praise be to the Lion!" the Hermit peered deeply into the pool, "Who's that? The Lady Eva? Why on earth...fortunate she's there anyway," the Hermit added when her arrow killed the Calormen that nearly had Shasta.

"Please tell us what's happening!" Hwin exclaimed.

"The High King and the Lady Eva have just ridden down the alley and are doing battle with the Calormens…the lady Eva's horse has just been shot from under her. She appears to be hurt…no, she's not…Look out man! You'll have her head!...Your Shasta has just pulled her up on his horse."

"Oh well done Shasta!" Aravis' exclaimed, "I'm glad he's still alive! What now?"

The Hermit remained silent for a few minutes, while Aravis fidgeted and stared into the water at dubious dark shapes writhing and tossing under the surface.

It seemed an age before the Hermit's replied, "Another group of Calormens is coming to reinforce the others. The High King and Prince Corin are dealing brilliant stokes. But the High King seems to be wearying; his old wounds must still be hurting him. Prince Corin seems quite fit, though, The High King has taught him well…Shasta and the Lady Eva appear to be going in circles on their horse, ah, now they're straightened out…I wonder who taught Lady Eva to fence, she's holding her own against a Calormen…" there was a tense moment as the Hermit leaned ever closer to the pool, frowning, then he smiled, "for a moment I thought she was goner…ah, I see now!"

* * *

><p>Eva contented herself to only parrying blows from the Calormen that attacked them next, if she tried to attack, she knew that he would cut through her defenses at once.<p>

The Calormen rained blow after smashing blow down on her. Frantically, hands clutching the hilt of the sword, she parried; each blow shocking pain down her arms and slamming her into the quivering horse below her. Now she knew why women did not fight in battles. This was too much; her slim arms were no match to the battle hardened sword arm of the Calormen.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ares rear up high and land again. Peter dealt a blow with his sword to a Calormen and socked another in the face with his buckler. He seemed to be moving more slowly and his sword no longer flickered and flashed through the air like a ray of silver. Watching King Peter with a sword was like watching a brilliant, breathtaking dance, but at the moment he seemed content to simply hack at his assailants. He was now favoring his left arm and Eva remembered Susan saying that he had a gash in his side. Eva knew with a sinking feeling that he was fading fast and they could never hold their own without him.

Shasta's mare touched noses with the Calormene mare and quite suddenly she jerked back, squealing, to whip around and attack the Calormen's horse. She danced up on her hind legs and beat down on the unfortunate horse while Shasta clung to her mane and Eva clung to Shasta. With one last burst of energy, Eva raised the sword and brought it down as hard as she could onto the helm of the Calormen. Stunned, the Calormen slumped forward onto to the horse's neck as Eva's blow glanced off the side of his face, leaving a long jagged gash in his cheek.

"You fight well, Lady Eva," he whispered. Eva stared back, wide eyed.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked, frightened, "I didn't mean to."

"I should hope you did mean to," he said shaking his head clear and grabbing the bridle of Shasta's mare as she reared again, threatening to buck them off.

"Take your hands off our horse, or I'll kill you!" Eva cried, her voice shaking.

"I very much doubt it," the Calormen said, letting go of the mare's bride, "Get out of here while you still can."

Eva stared after him as he spurred his horse back to the Calormen lines, parrying a blow Corin smashed down on him. Peter wheeled Ares around and caught sight of Eva and Shasta. Dispatching another Calormen, he booted his horse into a dead gallop and gestured to the others to do the same.

They stared at him wide eyed; wondering at what madness had made him turn his back on the Calormens, then they saw; Elah, Ergo and Jafa dropped out of the sky and dove on the Calormens. They could not kill them, but at least they could hold them at bay in the narrow alley until they others were out of sight.

The truth dawned on Shasta and Eva at the same time and they both kicked the horse; it bolted, ears pinned back. Eva slipped the sword back in the sheath hanging at Shasta's side, then glanced back and saw Corin behind her. She looked ahead again, around Shasta, to see Ares on his hind legs as Peter wheeled him around. Another group of Calormens was entering the alley from the other end.

"The only way we could get out of here alive would be if we had wings to fly!" Eva exclaimed.

Shasta did not reply, only guided his horse after Ares, dashing under an archway into a courtyard through a door that had been left open by the occupants when they had flown to Cair Anvard. Peter was off his horse and he slammed the door shut and bolted it behind Corin as he galloped under the arch.

Horse hooves in the alley echoed behind the door, then stopped. There was silence.

Shaking, Eva slid off the horse and stood by its head, looking up at Peter as he stared at the door. The Calormens were pounding on the other side.

"What do we do now?" Corin asked, also dismounting.

"Die nobly, I suppose," Peter said, glancing around the courtyard and at the balcony on the back of the house at the other end.

Three shadows crossed him in quick succession and he looked up to see Ergo, Elah and Jafa circling slowly. Finally, they swooped down and landed in the courtyard.

"Thank you friends," Peter said, "We owe our lives to you this day." He put his hand against the door as more battering came from the other side.

"Only half saved," Jafa said grimly, "this house opens on the town square, Calormens are as thick as thieves there. You are surrounded."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** After this I'll be taking inspiration from _Les Miserables..._the book, of course.

~Psyche

**Hannah Skipper: **Thank you so much for your reviews! Ophelia is just a name we liked...it's not really even Narnian.

Jafa is a take-off of Java, Ergo actually means 'therefore' in Latin (Cogito ergo sum..) and Elah is a Hebrew name for God from the Old Testament. We really just picked the names for their sound...

Dara doesn't show up again, but is mentioned in the sequel to this story, which is a retelling of Prince Caspian. She fares very well as the official court painter of Cair Paravel.

I think that this chapter answers the rest of your questions/comments. (:

~Rose


	69. Beneath the City

Beneath the City

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><p><em>Desperate affairs require desperate measures.<em>

~ Horatio Nelson

* * *

><p>"For heaven's sake! What's happening?" Aravis exclaimed.<p>

"Patience, daughter, patience," The Hermit said, laying his hand on Aravis' shoulder, then he gave a low laugh and leaned closer, "I say!"

* * *

><p>"Then all hope is lost?" Eva asked, "Unless of course we can hold out here."<p>

"Hope lost?" Peter looked at her and shook his head, smiling, "Hope is never lost… Hope is a waking dream…" Peter paused, struck by this, "who was that? Aristotle? Or was it Plato?"

"What is our hope?" Eva asked dryly.

Peter grinned at her roguishly, "The sewers of course."

"What?" Corin asked, dismounting. "Where?"

In response, Peter strode over to a circular grating set in a dip in the middle of the courtyard. They followed him and saw that it was about two feet wide; Peter knelt and tried to lift it.

"Can't," he said at last, "We'll each take a side…good…one, two, three, heave!"

Between the four of them, they lifted the grating easily and set it aside. Peter dropped down into the hole and stooping, found himself looking into a tunnel about three feet high.

"Wait here," Peter said, "I'll be back."

They watched while he disappeared down the tunnel. A few seconds later he returned, grinning, "Joins up with a bigger tunnel. We should be able to get anywhere in the city this way."

They hauled him out and he immediately went to Ares, sifted through his saddlebags and surfaced with a small lantern and a flint and steel. He lit it and closed the little door.

"Hopefully it will last long enough," Peter said. "It's just a candle lantern."

"What do we do with the horses?" Corin asked.

"Leave them where they stand," Peter said, "Now, everyone down the drain."

One by one, they dropped down and stooped into the low tunnel, Peter was last.

"Go all the way to the end and wait for me," then he reached out and dragged the grating back over the hole, it hurt like anything, but it had to be done. Then stooping, Peter made his way down the tunnel, holding the lantern before them. He reached the end of the first tunnel and came out in a larger one, stepping ankle deep in dirty water. The wan light of the lamp showed the pale, serious faces of his companions.

He grinned at them and took the lead, "Corin, I want you in the rear, stay alert, all the rest of you in the middle."

"How many of the rest of us are there?" Eva asked.

They started forward, splashing through water and watching the dull light on slimy walls.

"Which way are we going?" Corin asked at last.

"East, that's the nearest outlet." Then Peter laughed, "I think I've been spending this summer traveling in strange places."

* * *

><p>"What <em>has<em> happened?" Aravis demanded.

"They all went down the drain in the courtyard," The Hermit said, "I wonder where they'll come out."

"Down the _drain_?" Aravis stared at him incredulously, "how is that possible?"

"The sewers, they went down a drain leading to the sewers," the Hermit said. "Fortunate too, the Calormens have just broken down the door and are swarming into the courtyard. They've walked right over the drain without noticing. I pray they won't think of it."

"So do I," Aravis said softly.

* * *

><p>They rode down into the city.<p>

Starting fourteen years ago, it had slowly began to spring to life on the foundations of the old city. People had moved in, had built houses, had made it beautiful. Now, though small in comparison with the great cities in Calormen, Telmar and even Archenland, it had a charm and old beauty about it that were not to be disputed.

They rode past leather working shops, apothecaries, seamstress shops, bakeries, silver smithies, gold smithies, ale houses. Towards the harbor were boat building shops, mills and ironworks. There were shouts of sailors, the call of seagulls, the sound of the boatswains' whistles on the warships in harbor and at last, ships bells. Six times they rang, the sound echoing clearly across the water.

"Three o'clock," Eustace said thoughtfully.

Everywhere they went, they stopped every lady and asked her what it was she most desired. Some wanted young husbands, others wished to be rich, one beaver had lost her children and was looking for them, one dwarf maid was angry because she had lost an argument.

"Never a decisive answer," Susan said.

They rode up hill again, the residential district. Tall houses stood above the street, ivy hung over a retaining wall, flower gardens scented the air. The horses' hooves echoed hollowly off the cobles and Tamash snatched Ashquar's head away as he reached for the ivy.

At the end of the street, they saw a figure in a pale blue velvet cloak walking slowly towards them. It was a girl, they saw, of about thirteen or fourteen in an expensive indigo silk dress, she had brocade slippers and gold sparkled at her throat. She held open in front of her a red covered tome and seemed to be entirely enthralled in it.

"Good afternoon," Susan said, bringing Ophelia to a halt. "What is your name, may I ask?"

The girl started and nearly dropped her book.

"Elaina," The girl said, turning a pair of blue eyes on Susan.

"Elaina," Susan said, "What a lovely name. Tell me, Elaina, what is it you wish for the most, what is it you most desire?"

Elaina looked at her for a few moments, "No one has ever asked me that before."

"Yes, I'm afraid it is a little odd," Susan said, "But I _would_ like to know."

"I suppose…" Elaina began, then paused and smiled, "I wish most that I was poor."

Eustace tried to hide a smile.

"Thank you very much, Elaina," Susan said.

"Please, who are you?" Elaina said, "You are the most beautiful lady I've ever seen."

"Thank you," Susan blushed, "My name is Susan."

"I'm very pleased to meet you," Elaina sank into a curtsey.

"I'm very pleased to meet you too," Susan said, then she touched her heel to Ophelia's side, "Come to the castle sometime and ask for me."

Eustace looked back to see the girl staring wide eyed after them, he urged his horse forward and rode next to Susan.

"Why must you be so polite to them all?" Eustace exclaimed, "You must always ask their names and how they are and listen to all their complaints. We'll never find the answer at the rate we're going."

"I don't think we _will_ find the answer," Susan said sharply.

"Fair lady!" Tamash exclaimed, "Speak not so! There must be an answer!"

"Yes, but what is it?" Eustace snapped, "That's the trouble. Any brilliant ideas?"

"Eustace, there is no need to lose our tempers," Susan said coolly.

Eustace made a disgusted noise and rode ahead.

"I do believe he's worried about me," Susan said, smiling.

* * *

><p>They walked on down the tunnel. They watched the lantern swinging steadily from Peter's hand and Corin in the rear kept looking back, wondering if the soft drip of water and scuttle of strange little feet might really be the Calormens following them.<p>

Eva stumbled and almost fell; the floor of the tunnel was very slippery. She recovered herself and looked up. Something high on the wall to her left caught her eye. Two shinning things, vaguely green like twin moons, deep in the shadows.

"Peter…" She reached out and touched his arm, her voice sounded unnaturally high and quavering, "Are those _eyes_?"

Peter looked where she pointed. The eyes blinked, then continued to stare at them. Peter raised the lantern; it only deepened the shadow and made the eyes brighter.

"Hello," A voice came out of the darkness, "Are you a recreant knight?"

They all jumped.

Peter cocked his head, "My brother calls me that sometimes, but no, I'm not a recreant knight. At this moment I'm an errant knight."

The eyes nodded, "I'm Rizzo. Are you an escaped convict?"

"Are you?" Peter said inquiringly.

There was a scuttling on the wall and the owner of the eyes came running down the wall to stand in the water at their feet. They found that Rizzo was an enormous rat, the size of a medium dog. His ears were crusted with gold and silver earrings, he had a dog collar around his neck, the type you might find on a bulldog, and he even had a few rings on his tail. There was a rusted and nicked cutlass in his belt.

"I'm a pack rat," he explained proudly.

"Are you indeed," Peter said, "I'm Peter, honored to meet you!"

"And I, you!" Rizzo said, "What can I do for you? That is, if you aren't an escaped convict. Most of the creatures we get down here are."

"Oh we're not," Peter said, "But you could be of invaluable service to us."

"Invaluable?" Rizzo's face fell, "Does that mean I'm not useful?"

"Invaluable means you are extra useful," Peter explained quickly.

"Ah!" the rat said.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I think my favorite part of _Les Miserables_ is when Jean Valjean brings Marius down into the sewers to escape the revolutionaries in the city. I suddenly realized just what sewers were like in those days. The Populae Romanarum went down into the Roman sewers while Nero was fiddling as Rome burned. Rome was advanced indeed, what with thier running water, sewers, plate glass and art.

And of course, Rizzo is courtesy of the Muppets. He and Gonzo are my favorites. :)

Sorry I've taken so long in posting. I will try to be better. :)

~Psyche

**Hannah Skipper:** I'm so excited about 'I'll Have Another's' post position. I hope it means he can run the same race as in the last two. The only horse I'm worried about is Union Rags, because he seems to be a distance horse. I'll Have Another is too, though! I'm excited about the race and mad because I won't be able to watch it. I'll be at my friends graduation party. :(


	70. The Prodigal Son

The Prodigal Son

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><p><em>You don't raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes. <em>

~ Walter M. Schirra, Sr.

* * *

><p>At first, the Narnian charge had seemed successful. They had dashed forward, driving the Calormens back, but the Calormens had taken refuge in the buildings surrounding the town square. Then the Calormen archers had started firing and the Narnians had no choice but to take over the buildings across the road from the Calormens. It had been a stalemate after that, the archers of both sides trying to pick each other off the rooftops.<p>

"Their aim is very good," Lucy had told Edmund when he came up to rooftop to see what was happening.

"So I see," Edmund said when an arrow whistled past his ear.

"Do you know what you're going to do?" Lucy asked pulling him down.

"Not really," Edmund said, "We vastly outnumber them, but they are rooted in there and we can't safely get them out until they run out of arrows."

"Or until they run out of food," Lucy suggested.

"We could burn them out," Edmund said thoughtfully.

"Oh no!" Lucy exclaimed, "Then we'd ruin homes! We couldn't possibly."

"They'll probably be ruined anyway," Edmund said.

"At least they'll still be standing," Lucy said, "Anyway, if we started a fire, how would we stop it?"

"I don't know," Edmund said, "I'll go see if Ahearn has any bright ideas." He crawled off the roof, keeping his head below the level of the railing and started down the stairs. They lead down into a large parlor, beautifully decorated.

Edmund had just sat down on a red velvet sofa when the door burst open and Ahearn entered. Immediately behind him was a warrior in armor with a familiar helmet with a red plume. Edmund watched him incredulously as he sat down on the floor against the wall, pulled off his helmet with one hand and wiped his sweat dampened hair out of his face with the other.

"Peter?" Edmund stared at him, "What are you doing here?"

The next moment three other people swept through the door. Edmund turned to look at them.

"Lady Eva?" he gaped, "Corin and Shasta, of course _you'd_ be here."

Eva turned to look at Peter, "would you like some water?" she asked worriedly.

Peter opened his mouth to answer.

"No he doesn't," Edmund said and pulled out a brown flask from his clothes, "there's nothing like this to cure him."

Peter took the flask dubiously, opened it, sniffed it, then cautiously drank some of it. He stared at it incredulously.

"Where on earth did you get that from?" Peter asked, "That's the strongest whisky I've ever had. Have you got a private still in your room?"

"No, I have a private contract with a black dwarf who makes the stuff. It's for emergencies only. It has an amazingly rejuvenating effect on people who are half dead…like you." Edmund said, "Anyway, where did you come from, why are you here? Does Susan know you're here?"

"Does Susan know you have a still in your bedroom?" Peter asked.

"It isn't in my bedroom," Edmund snapped, "Why _are_ you here?"

"We came to watch," Peter said, "that is, Lady Eva and I. Ergo, Elah and Jafa flew down and told us that Corin and Shasta were running headlong into the Calormens, so we rode in to help."

"Where was that?" Edmund asked.

"West Street," Peter said, "that narrow, diagonal street off the town square, there's a gap in the lines there. We were completely surrounded by Calormens."

"How did you fight your way out?" Edmund asked.

"We didn't," Peter said, "We ran for it."

Edmund raised an eyebrow.

"Well," Peter said, "We escaped through the sewers."

Edmund suddenly stiffened.

"I know," Peter said, "You're probably thinking the same thing I am."

"Is it possible?"

"We have a guide, Rizzo, a packrat we met down in the sewer, he thinks it's possible. He says there is a fairly large drain in the town square next to the statue of King Lune's grandfather."

"But if we send an army down into the sewers they'll be murdered as they come up one by one from that drain."

"Not if we distract the Calormens with a charge. We'll send raptors, griffins and such to harass the archers long enough for us to go across the street and break into the houses and the town square. Half their army is in the town square and hopefully they'll all look the other way while our men come up through the drain."

Edmund shrugged, "It's certainly worth a try. Only one condition."

"What's that?" Peter asked.

"You stay here," Edmund said, "You are in no condition to fight and if you don't agree, I shall be obliged to have you restrained until it's over."

Peter grinned, "Never fear, brother, I don't even feel like getting up."

There was silence for a moment.

"My I ask where Queen Lucy is?" Eva asked.

"Up on the roof, and mind you, keep your head down," Edmund said, then stopped, "I say, what's wrong?"

Eva shook her head and tried to quell the shaking in her hands, "Nothing," she whispered.

"Something must be wrong," Peter clambered to his feet, took one of her hands and patted it. Edmund took the other, "It was the battle, wasn't it?"

She nodded, "I've never killed anyone before. Or, at least the Telmarine that tried to assassinate me, but that was different."

"It never gets any easier," Peter said gently.

"Here, drink this," Edmund handed her his flask. Obediently, she took a sip, and choked.

Peter pounded her on the back, "That's it, get your blood flowing."

~o*o~

General Winston was elected to lead the men going through the sewers. He gladly accepted and they all knew he would be the first out of the drain, the first to charge the enemy.

Raptors were dispatched; it was decided not to use the griffins, for as Elah explained, when charging archers its best to be a very small target. The Narnian archers on the rooftops were ordered to hold their fire while the raptors climbed to a high altitude, the dove down on the Calormen archers.

At that moment, according to a prearranged time, the Narnians charged.

~o*o~

Edmund was the first across the ally. Holding his shield over his head, he dashed out of the front door of the house. A huge leopard zoomed past him and tackled a Calormen in a narrow side street with a sickening thump.

Edmund reached a door of a house on the opposite side, pushing his foot against it; he kicked it open, then dashed sideways as a Calormen hurtled out of the house, scimitar raised. Another two set upon him at once, Edmund dealt with one and the other crumpled up with an arrow through his heart. Edmund glanced up at the rooftops across the ally, he saw no one, but he knew the Narnian archers were at work.

Edmund quickly parried a scimitar and with the backstroke of the same parry, beheaded another Calormen. Flavis was next to him now, wielding his claymore.

Edmund dashed down a hallway, surprised to see no more Calormens. A door barricaded his way, he put his shoulder against it and it burst open. Quickly he dashed out of the way and a horde of arrows whistled through the open door and stuck in the opposite wall like hedgehog quills. Edmund bolted through the door before they could notch more arrows and plied his sword on the nearest Calormen. The next Calormen parried his blow neatly. Edmund looked into his eyes.

"Delighted to see you, Rabadash."

~o*o~

Eva and Lucy sat side by side on the rooftop when Edmund dashed across the ally, the Narnians behind him.

Lucy drew her bow to her ear and shot a Calormen in the doorway next to Edmund. Eva followed suit with another Calormen coming around a corner of the house. She closed her eyes before the arrow hit.

Eva plucked Lucy's embroidered sleeve, "Look!"

Lucy looked. Narnians seemed to be overflowing the drain and washing towards the unsuspecting Calormens. To the west, the gates of Cair Anvard opened and King Lune rode forth on a stunning white charger at the head of his finest knights, he joined the fray with vengeance.

Lucy grinned, then grew serious, she turned to the archer next to her, "Hit that man there." She pointed out a Calormen archer half hidden in the branches of a great oak in the middle of the square; he was just drawing his bow.

"My lady," the archer said, drawing his great six-foot bow until his muscles cracked, "I have no skill such as yours at that great distance."

He let fly and sure enough, the arrow went wide of its mark. Lucy hesitated, she could never hope to draw such a bow and her own bow did not have the range.

"Draw again," Lucy said, "I will guide the arrow."

The archer drew again and Lucy sighted down the arrow, moving it slightly, "Let fly," she said softly. This time, the arrow struck true and the Calormen toppled from the tree.

"I don't know how you do it," Eva said.

"What?" Lucy asked, drawing her own bow and letting fly.

"Kill people," Eva said, "I just can't do it somehow."

"I just think they invaded this land without provocation and they haven't surrendered, so I must kill them. If I don't, they will kill me. It's as simple as that. If you don't shoot them, they'll shoot you."

"I know you're right," Eva said, half drawing her own bow, then deciding against it, "I just can't help thinking that they're somebody's son, somebody's husband."

"You wouldn't think that if you knew them," Lucy said, "these Calormens we are fighting today are almost as ruthless and cruel as Rabadash himself. They've been trained to be since childhood. Not all Calormens are like that, of course, but these, they are like that band in our world called the S.S. a group of men dedicated to death and killing. Before we left, Tamash explained it to me. I can assure you that none of these Calormens are thinking any charitable thoughts before they thrust cold steel between the ribs of a Narnian."

"You _are_ right," Eva said and she picked up her bow, drew it to her ear, then hesitated, "Isn't that king Edmund? He does have little silver wings on his helmet?"

"Where?" Lucy demanded.

"Over there, by the flag pole in the town square…it _is_! He's lowering the Calormen flag and raising Archenland's! The day is ours!"

There was a crash behind them and they looked around to see Peter picking himself up out of fragments of terracotta.

"Sorry," he said, swaying alarmingly, "I just tripped over a flower pot. I don't feel as steady as usual."

"Come down at once!" Lucy exclaimed, "And take off your helmet. It's a perfect target!"

Peter meekly obliged.

"Where are Corin and Shasta?" Lucy asked.

"Downstairs, I don't want them up here. Don't worry; they're under the guard of two centaurs. I don't think Corin will find it very easy to get away," Peter said, "Someone's raised the flag."

"Yes, King Edmund did," Eva replied, "Doesn't that mean we've won?"

"Sadly no," Peter said, "Calormens fight to the death. They believe that surrendering is not honorable."

"They must be insane," Eva said.

"Probably not," Peter said, "most likely they expect we northerners treat prisoners of war the same way they do. It's better to fight to the death them give yourself up to a Calormen. Less painful."

But the charge from the sewers had gone perfectly and General Winston always said afterwards that it was their finest hour. Quoth he, "Never have so many owed so much to so few. Eh woof!" The battle only lasted half an hour. Edmund showed them he had captured Rabadash and this finally decided the Calormens; they threw down their weapons and surrendered.

~o*o~

They decided that the Calormen army would be gathered together and marched to a field near Cair Anvard, there they would held. Prince Rabadash and his captains were sentenced to standing under the penetrating gaze of centaurs.

"We could see if Susan would come and lop off his head," Edmund suggested, glancing at Rabadash, "Or if she won't, I will."

"Let us not speak of lopping," King Lune said, dismounting. He embraced Edmund like a brother, "I owe you much, noble king and loyal friend."

"And we owe you just as much," Edmund replied, smiling, "How could we have done less?"

"Father! Father! I say! Father!" Corin dodged around a centaur, threw Rabadash one quick, disgusted look and turned back to his father.

"What's this?" King Lune exclaimed, "Did _you_ fight in the battle?"

"I beg your pardon," Edmund said, "But this young rapscallion slipped my clutches some time back and has been eluding me ever since, fortunately Peter arrived in time to save him from a ticklish situation."

"You ought to be whipped twice over for disobedience," King Lune exclaimed, "First stowing away on the Royal Narnian ship and now this! It was ill done of you lad, very ill done!"

"Yet he fought well," Peter said, limping around the centaur, "I could not have asked for a better man at my side while we fought the Calormens."

King Lune looked rather pleased and reached out to steady Peter. Lucy came to stand at Peter's other side and smiled thoughtfully at King Lune, as if she knew something he didn't.

"I believe Prince Corin was rather more helpful then we were," the Lady Eva said, rounding the centaur. Immediately behind her was a tall young man, fair-haired and like Corin- _very_ like Corin.

King Lune's eyes widened at the sight of him, then he reached out and embraced him, "I saw you once, lad and I have been wishing to see you again," his voice broke, "for you are my son, once dead, and now alive again; once lost, and now found."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I have uploaded pictures for each of my stories. I've been dying to do it for a long time because each story has a picture, as well as pieces of music, on which it was based.

It ought to be noted that the picture I chose for this story was one Rose took with her super-duper camera of me on Squishy (I'm not in it). I do not jest. Squishy is his name, I tried my best to dissuade my riding instructor from naming him that...but to no avail. He's a lovely horse anyway, a thoroughbred fresh off the track, only five years old and as green as an apple and one of the calmest horses I've ever ridden. He deserves a name like Eclipse, or Ranger, but he's doomed to be Squishy. It's almost as bad as Pot-8-o's of the 1700's (again, I do not jest). Pot-8-o's stable name was Potatoes (not sure why) and his stable boy, when asked how to spell his name, wrote 'Potoooooooos' (if you don't believe me, you can google it) but I digress...

On another note, I'm very disappointed about the Belmont...oh well! Maybe it will be Union Rags after all.

I thought I'd post another chapter today, seeing as I've missed so many. I have to say I'm a little nervous about posting the chapter after this...what ever happens, don't be too angry...please?

~Psyche

**Hannah Skipper:** Thanks for asking, my Grandfather is home and doing much better! I think the horses will be fine, Calormens like horses, so they won't kill or harm them. Peter and Co. will get them back after the battle. :) Hopefully it will all go all right (unlike the Belmont ):


	71. The North Star

The North Star

* * *

><p><em>But our love was stronger by far than the love <em>

_Of those who were older than we _

_Of many far wiser than we _

_And neither the angels in heaven above, _

_Nor the demons down under the sea, _

_Can ever dissever my soul from the soul _

_Of the beautiful Annabel Lee._

~ Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

><p>Evening came more quickly than they expected. All afternoon was spent searching the city for Calormens that might have concealed themselves in houses or other buildings. It wasn't until very late that the gates of Cair Anvard were opened and the people of the city were allowed back to their homes.<p>

Lucy watched from the ramparts immediately over the gates while a long, dark stream of people came from the Cair and went into Anvard. It was a cool, dark night and many were cloaked and hooded, some carried lamps, giving them the appearance of pilgrims returning to a once forgotten city. Slowly, like fireflies, lights appeared in the dark houses and smoke curled from cold chimneys.

Lucy turned from her place and walked slowly along the wall, stepping around the cannons.

"Hullo, Lucy?" Edmund was walking towards her, "Dinner's been served in the Great Hall, if you don't hurry it will be gone before we get there."

"It's so beautiful to watch them, all the lamps I mean," Lucy said, "They look like fireflies, glittering in the night."

"Yes, very pretty," Edmund said taking her arm, "Shall we go?"

"Of course," Lucy said. "Isn't it wonderful Shasta is now Cor? I think he's never been so startled in his life."

"He's had a long line of startling things happen to him, poor boy," Edmund replied.

~o*o~

Lights had been lit in the Great Hall and a fire had been lit in the hearth.

Edmund and Lucy greeted King Lune, then found their places at the table on the dais. What a feast it was! Swans and peacocks had been cooked on a spit over a fire, then put back into their skins so that it looked as if real birds sat on the silver platters. There were pyramids of appetizers; sweetmeats and fruit. There were tarts and pastries and shining silver pitchers of wine.

King Lune stood and held his wine glass aloft, the yellow wine sparkling in the lights.

"I call a toast!" He called, "To my first born son, Cor, who has returned to us and shall become king after me. May he rule wisely!"

King Lune drank and the company drank after him, then King Lune hurled the goblet on the floor where it broke in a thousand pieces of shining glass.

"I say," Cor said softly to Corin, "I didn't know I was born first! I didn't mean to come along and steal your kingdom away!"

"I don't have to be king!" Corin exclaimed, "Wonderful! I shall always be a prince. Princes have all the fun!"

"It is very true," King Lune said, smiling.

"Are you quite certain you didn't get us mixed up?" Cor asked hesitantly.

"Quite certain," King Lune said, "When you were first born we tied a red ribbon around your wrist."

"I propose a toast!" Edmund stood, "To Narnia and Archenland! They fought bravely today!"

Several 'here here's were called and everyone drank again.

Peter hauled himself to his feet, "How about this one?" he raised his glass, "to ourselves!"

Laughing, they drank to it.

"Well," Peter said sitting down, "no one else is likely to concern themselves with our welfare."

As the feast drew to a close, a fiddler came forward and played a lively piece, dancing from one end of the dais to the other. When he drew to a close, he turned to Edmund with a flourish.

"Sire," the man said, bowing to Edmund, "I hear in that among your own people you are a rare fiddler, pray, sire, play a match with me? I challenge you to a duel!"

Laughing, Edmund came to his feet. Another musician offered him his instrument and Edmund took it lovingly, laying the bow across the strings to hear if the pitch was right. At last, Edmund took a stand at one end of the dais and the Archenlander took the other end. Slowly they bowed, then straightened.

There was silence.

Then the Archenlander laid his bow on the strings and slowly began to play. Edmund watched him for a few measures, listening intently. At last he took up his bow and played a wild harmony to match the melody.

The Archenlander grinned, then changed the tune, higher, faster, more like mocking laughter. Edmund parried with an intertwining harmony. Too full of music to stand still, they both leaped off the dais and danced among the tables, always playing, never missing a note.

Edmund watched his opponent, one dark eyebrow raised in question, a slight smile on his lips, daring, challenging the Archenlander to match him, to do better. The beat grew faster and the seated company found their feet tapping, their bodies swaying.

Edmund leaped on one of the tables and stood next to the ham, playing to the very roof and beyond, the sky, limitless, then the stars, the moon and farthest away another world like a blue marble. There were two people in a house in a far away city, he had lived there once. His playing took on a more wistful sound and came down the scale to lower parts. He was playing alone now; magic in his fingers, the Archenlander had admitted defeat and was standing against the wall breathing hard.

Edmund's tune sobbed with grace notes, not tragic, yet deeply sad and longing. The company sat, entranced, their minds soaring. At last, Edmund bowed his head and drew out the last note. There was silence.

King Lune coughed and the company came out of their trance and applauded. Edmund bowed gracefully and, taking notice of the ham for the first time, saluted it, stepped gingerly off the table, returned the fiddle to its owner and took his place again at the dais.

"Brilliant! Brilliant!" King Lune exclaimed, "You missed your calling, my boy, you should have been a musician!"

Now servants were dashing in to clear away the food and push the tables aside. There would be dancing next. Reels, Lucy's favorite kind of dancing. She took Cor by the hands and dragged him down to the dance floor. Corin and Edmund each found a lady and followed and other ladies and gentlemen came after them until the floor was nearly filled.

The music began and the dancers whirled through the steps.

"Other way, Cor!" Lucy shouted, laughing.

Eva looked up from where she sat on the sidelines. She had ridden too far to dance. Prince Cor, blushing fiercely had just run into one of the ladies of the court and everybody was laughing. Lucy came forward, took his hand and positioned him where he ought to have been. The dancing began anew.

Eva stood up, turned behind a column and made her way to a door that opened onto a balcony to let the cool night air into the Great Hall. She felt very tired, perhaps shocked. She had had a jarring day and she was quite sure she wouldn't recover from it for a long while.

"Hullo, not dancing?"

Eva spun around to see the High King leaning against the doorframe.

"You're not either, your majesty."

"Too sore," Peter said, coming forward to lean heavily on the stone railing.

"I'm not surprised," Eva replied. "Look, there in the sky; there is the Ship and the Centaur next to it. I love constellations, but it has taken me years to figure out where they all are."

"I can tell," Peter said, laughter in his voice, "_that's_ the Ship over there and there's the Centaur. Opposite direction."

Eva laughed, "There I go again. See? I never could learn. But I do know that is the Lion, I know it because he has the North Star in his paw."

"You have learned something then," Peter replied, "Now, which way is south?"

"I suppose it's the other direction from the North Star," Eva replied logically.

"You're brilliant," Peter said dryly, then burst out laughing.

They stood side by side, lost in the stars, feeling almost as if they were adrift in the silver of the heavens that was scattered above them, as numerous as the sand of the sea. Eva glanced at Peter, trying to see his face in the shadows cast by the yellow light behind them. He looked tired, pained and somehow deeply sad. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but it wouldn't be right, she thought.

"Oh, I'm so…scatter-brained and…have such a temper…" Eva sighed, looking up at the stars again.

"This is true," Peter said, his voice slightly puzzled.

"I've made a resolution," Eva said, turning to him triumphantly.

"Eh?"

"I'm going to turn over a new leaf." Eva said with gravity.

Peter snorted, then laughed, "Nonsensical girl!"

There was silence for a little while.

"Do you think we're sort of grown up?" Peter asked suddenly in quite a different voice.

Eva was so shocked she didn't answer for a moment.

"What do you mean by 'we'?"

"You and I for instance."

"Um…You and me, you mean?" Eva asked, "I don't know. I think you are about enough grown up for the both of us…as for me…_that's_ another matter. I don't think I'll ever grow up, not 'till I'm ninety nine. Or maybe one hundred and nine…"

"So you think I'm about grown up for both of us?" Peter asked, "Do you think I'm at all sensible or responsible?"

Eva looked at him oddly, "Yes, I think so, who ever told you that you weren't?"

Peter didn't reply, but continued to gaze at the stars, glittering like a million million pin points of silver light. At last he turned to look at her and she could barely see his face for the dark. "Why don't we get married, then?"

Eva stared at him, then shut her mouth with a snap, shook her head as if clearing it, stared out over the city, then looked back at him, "I didn't' think you'd ever ask." She managed at last.

"I didn't-"

"I know you didn't" Eva said quickly, "But now you have and my answer is yes…if you don't mind." She added hesitantly.

"You really mean it?" Peter asked quickly, "you're not saying it just because I'm High King and all that, are you?"

"Of course not!" Eva exclaimed, "If you ever thought for one moment-!"

"I didn't, I didn't," Peter said hastily. "Pretend I didn't say it."

"No I won't," Eva said, "I'm not as shallow as all that, I think it would be silly if someone loved somebody else just because they were rich, or handsome, or powerful or something like that…you know what I mean, don't you?"

"Of course," Peter said. "I'm glad you think so, though I never doubted it."

"Can I stay Queen Lucy's lady-in-waiting?" Eva asked suddenly.

"If you like," Peter said, "We could promote you to a princess if you wanted."

"I don't want to be a princess," Eva said laughing, "I want to stay just the way I am."

"I thought you would."

He fumbled at his neck and Eva saw a gleam of silver chain, then with a quick motion, he broke it. She heard something metallic land on the stone floor with a soft ringing sound. Peter stooped to pick it up, then held it out to her, "I'd like you to have it."

"What is it?" Eva asked softly; he dropped it in her hand and she turned to the yellow light streaming through the open doorway behind them. She held it up, it was a ring, she saw, intricately made in the form of two hands holding a heart carved of green emerald, topped with a silver crown.

"It's a claddagh heart," Peter replied, "when someone wears it so that the hands hold the heart out, away from her, then it means that her heart is free, when she wears it the other way, with the hands holding the heart in, it means that someone else has her heart. The emerald signifies true love, legend has it that if one of the lovers is not true to the other, the green fades."

"You have it all figured out, don't you," Eva said, though she didn't trust her voice. She felt alarmingly like crying.

"I have for ages," Peter said softly, "I've had that ring for three years now and thought about it for longer. I meant…I meant to ask you years ago, but I've always had this fear that Susan, Lucy, Edmund and I would be going back to our old world. I didn't want to leave you behind."

Eva blinked back tears furiously and slid the ring on her finger, the hands holding the heart towards _her _heart.

"After all," Peter said coughing cautiously, "Everyone's been after me to 'marry before it is too late'."

Eva stared at him, then her green eyes flashed and she stamped her foot, "High King Peter the Maleficent, I hate you!"

"Magnificent, Eva, Magnificent."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Would you have preferred I killed her off? I promise there won't be any more mushy stuff. I can't abide it anyway.

~Psyche

**Hannah Skipper:** I'm sorry you were so sorry about the Belmont. I was sorry too! I didn't actually go to my friend's graduation party. I caught the flu and spent the day being miserable. The only high point was Union Rags winning.

Union Rags was actually the horse I hoped would win the Derby. He has a bit of a Cinderella story, what with his owner being paralyzed in a car accident and his trainer crashing in an airliner and rescuing people out of the fire. I was surprised that everyone wrote him off so quickly after his loss at the Florida Derby and doubted he would run a good race in the Belmont. He was the best horse on the field, he had to win, and Paynter's tactics have been proven to fail. I would love to have seen a battle between Union Rags and I'll Have Another...that would have been something...and I would have hoped it ended in a Triple Crown.

Anyway, there is always next year and the years after...and Rachel Alexandra has just had a colt by Curlin. If that's not a recipe for success I don't know what is. :)


	72. The Merlin

The Merlin

* * *

><p><em>He clasps the crag with crooked hands; <em>

_Close to the sun in lonely lands, _

_Ringed with the azure world, he stands. _

_The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; _

_He watches from his mountain walls, _

_And like a thunderbolt he falls. _

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson

* * *

><p>Lucy looked around and saw that Peter and the Lady Eva were standing on the sidelines watching. <em>So that's where he went.<em>

She dashed over to him, "Peter! Peter! King Lune says there are going to be fireworks in honor of Cor, the best view will be out on the battlements, oh do come!"

"I'm coming," Peter said, "But let me go at my own pace, I'm not up to high speeds yet."

Lucy ran forward and caught up with Edmund; everyone was filing out of the Great Hall, out into the cool night air. They lined up on the battlements and stood, the chill wind circling round them and blowing through their hair.

The first firework streaked into the sky with a sparkling tail, then it burst into a million golden sparks, falling, falling, then fading away. The people of the city stood watching on their rooftops as the beautiful, old castle was illuminated by geysers of glowing stars. Rabadash in his room pounded on the door and shouted while fireworks exploded outside his window. He felt they were an insult and he was offended.

Far away, on a distant hill, Aravis and the two horses watched and wondered, then turned and wondered back down the path to the Hermit's cottage.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Susan rose early, dressed and took breakfast in a parlor. She was just thinking about pouring another cup of tea when Eustace burst into the room. He was wearing a short riding cloak, tall boots and he was misted with dust.<p>

"Hullo, Eustace," Susan said, pouring tea for herself and more in another cup, "Have tea?"

Eustace took it and drained it in a gulp.

"I've been out since four," Eustace said, "Still no hope."

"Out since four?" Susan exclaimed, "You weren't dragging people out of their beds, were you?"

"Of course not!" Eustace exclaimed, "I dropped in on the owls. I don't think they really listened to me at all," he said disgustedly, "They were too busy hooting about the battle in Archenland."

"More tea?" Susan asked.

"No thanks," Eustace said, "Are you ready to leave yet? Tamash has been following me around since I came back asking if he could go too. What say you?"

"I don't see why not," Susan said, "If he really _wants_ to ride a very long ways in a short amount of time and yes, I am ready to go. Let me just get my cloak. Why don't you fetch Tamash and the horses and I'll meet you in the courtyard. There's a good boy."

Eustace was gone in a moment and Susan rose slowly and went to her room, she collected her cloak, pinned it with a silver brooch and found a beret to keep her hair down. Then she went to the upper courtyard to meet the others.

* * *

><p>Cor had woken early that morning. His new life was too wonderful to spend sleeping…or perhaps his skinned hand was just throbbing. Somehow he had scraped it on something during the battle and he hadn't the slightest idea of how it had happened.<p>

He rolled out of bed and went to the window to look out on a new, magnificent world. He had a father, a brother; real relations, not just ones he thought were and weren't. These were people who actually cared about him, people whose eyes lighted up when he was near and broke off a conversation to say hello.

He turned from the window and began to struggle into his clothes. He always seemed to have trouble with them; his old clothes had had no laces or buttons or any such complicated things. When he finally deemed himself dressed, he went from his room. The servants bowed to him in the hallways, General Calhoun addressed him by name when he passed. Cor was something now, no longer nothing. A beggar to a crown prince. Lost to found. Guided there by Aslan. The idea made his spine shiver.

Perhaps something, perhaps a crown prince, but still quite capable of getting lost. He had thought he knew his way, but apparently he didn't. He found himself in an empty hallway. On impulse, he tried a door. It opened, and he found himself looking out over a small green lawn, at the end of which rose one of the inner walls of the castle.

King Peter and King Edmund where there, standing the length of the lawn apart, facing each other. Wonderingly, Cor stepped through the door and watched what they were doing.

As he watched, Peter let loose a shrill whistle and something that had been on the ground took to the air and glided down to his outstretched hand. Hawking they were, Cor thought, he had seen it once before. He had seen someone fly an eagle after gazelles once.

Edmund silently raised his gloved hand and the falcon, after a few moments of watching him, flew to him, claws outstretched, jesses flying. Cor smiled, it was almost as if they were playing catch.

Peter unrolled a long chord, at the end of which was a bundle of feathers and fur, in a quick motion; he whipped it over the ground. The falcon was after it in a moment; she overshot and doubled back, landing her outstretched talons in the lure. She dove with her beak and would have killed it if it were alive.

Peter knelt and coaxed the falcon away from the lure onto his gauntlet with a mouse he held by the tail.

"Cor!"

Cor started and remembered in a moment that it was his name.

"Cor!" Edmund called again.

Cor went forward and stood by Edmund as Peter lifted the falcon from the ground.

"What is the bird?" Cor asked.

"Peregrine," Edmund said, "They are the best hunters."

The falcon baited, flapping her wings, Peter looked at her, smiling.

"I've always wondered how it works," Cor said, "Is it like a relationship with a hunting dog?"

"No," Edmund said, "There is no affection, but there is trust. The falcon knows that if she returns then she will be fed. Would you like to try it?"

Cor's head spun, but the next moment he was wearing Edmund's tasseled hawking glove.

"Give a whistle," Edmund instructed, it sounded like his voice was a long way off, "She may not come at first."

Cor whistled. The falcon turned her head and looked at him, baited, but did not fly. Peter held her up, smiling faintly at Cor.

"Whistle again," Edmund commanded. Cor did so.

This time Peter launched the falcon with a long swinging motion. It seemed for a moment that she would try to come back to him, but he did not present his hand and she circled once, soaring into the sky. Subconsciously Cor whistled again.

The falcon came towards them. She tried to land on Edmund's hand, but he shoved it out of the way in his pocket. Then she was above Cor. It seemed that she hovered for a moment, then her outstretched talons gripped the glove and she folded her wings.

He stared at her wide-eyed, shocked that she was there, shocked at how light she was as she fixed him with a round silver eye. Her head and back were very dark, her breast creamy, spotted with dark feathers. Her feet seemed small, ending with long curving talons, but he could feel the press of them even through the heavy leather of the glove.

Hesitantly, Cor reached towards her.

"Don't touch her! She's liable to peck your eyes out!" Edmund exclaimed, "She's a wild bird, still young yet. Even the most well trained birds are half wild."

Cor swallowed and nodded wordlessly.

"Take a hold of the jesses," Edmund was saying and carefully Edmund's browned hands slid the jesses, long leather straps attached to the peregrine's ankles, between Cor's fingers. Then he attached the ends to a steel hook on the hawking glove.

Peter was next to Cor now and in a quick motion, he hooded the peregrine. It was a beautiful hood, of bright red leather, snakeskin and tooling, topped with a white feather plume.

"A beautiful hood for a beautiful bird," Peter was saying.

"What's it for?" Cor asked.

"She won't try to fly with the hood," Peter explained, "It's rather tiresome if she's constantly baiting."

"Does she hunt well?" Cor asked, they started walking across the lawn to the mews.

"Not she," Edmund said, "she's still in training. But the peregrine hunts the best of any bird."

"I've seen hawking with an eagle," Cor said, looking again at the peregrine, "Are there many kinds of birds used?"

"Any raptor," Peter said, "Owls, vultures – eagles down to the sparrow hawk. We used eagles to track down the witch's crew after the battle of Beruna. There were fewer eagles killed than hunting dogs. "

"I once heard that only kings could fly eagles," Cor said.

"You probably did, every rank in life has a specific bird," Peter said, "But I think it's all rot. Personally I prefer peregrines, not so heavy for one thing and eagles often don't catch what they fly after."

"As a prince what would I fly?" Cor asked, then added, "What does Corin fly?"

"As a prince, you would fly a Peregrine," Edmund said, "As for Corin…" he laughed and glanced at Peter.

"Corin likes to be different," Peter said, grinning, "He flies an owl."

Cor grinned, "Do ladies hawk?"

"Certainly they do," Edmund said, "Traditionally a lady flies a Merlin. I'll show you one when we reach the mews…" he cut off and glanced at Peter. Peter looked at him sideways and smiled again, "I think it would be a good idea," he replied.

"What?" Cor asked.

"I'll tell you, never fear," Edmund said.

The mews was a small stone building between the stables and the kennels. Inside, it was much like a stable with cages, like barred stalls, running up and down its length. Edmund opened one of the cages and stepped inside, followed by Cor. It was much smaller than a horse's stall and smelled distinctly like a chicken coop or a pigeon loft.

"Put her on her perch. Remember to unhook the jesses." Edmund slid the hood off the peregrine and Cor held her to the wooden pole running the length of the cage, she stepped on it and ruffled her feathers contentedly.

They left the cage and closed the door. Cor turned to see Peter holding another falcon on his gauntlet. It was a small bird, smaller even then the peregrine and of a soft gray, like a dove, with brown ticking on its creamy breast.

"This is a lady's bird, a Merlin," Peter said. "This particular falcon belonged to your Mother," his voice was gentle.

Cor stared, his eyes wide. He hesitated, then held out his gauntleted hand. Peter nodded and handed the falcon to him. Cor took hold of the jesses.

His mother's bird. She had once flown this bird. It had once heard her voice.

"What was she like?" Cor burst out.

"She was a great lady," Edmund said softly.

Cor nodded and handed the bird back to Peter. "Where's Corin's owl?" his voice was husky.

Edmund smiled and gestured to a cage behind them. Cor went to the bars and looked through. On the perch sat a mound of white feathers. Two sullen yellow eyes blinked from the round moonlike face. The jesses dangled beneath the owl, though Cor did not see its feet.

"Your father's favorite hawk is in the next cage," Edmund said from behind him. "Red tailed, he likes them best."

"We really ought to be getting inside," Peter said, as he returned the Merlin to its cage, "We'll miss breakfast."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hawking is fascinating. I read a book about it and was hooked, especily when we went to see a demonstration.

~Psyche

**Hannah Skipper:** I don't intend to break Peter and Eva up. This is AU and I've never seen why the four couldn't get married. If you've read _The Enchanted Isle_, then you'll know that they've known each other for a long time. I don't believe in people telling each other that they'll get married, then suddenly deciding against it. Marriage is sacred and not to be taken lightly and in Biblical times, the betrothal was almost as sacred as the marriage; the betrothal was the real thing, while the marriage ceremony was a short of celebration. I don't agree with the four children/monarch/people coming back to England after 14 years in Narnia and tend to think they stayed longer, it was known as the Golden Age and the golden number is 50. Anyway, I'm trying to carry through with the _Marriage of Sir Gawain_ angle. I was a little sick of most of the romances on this site and thought I'd try my hand at it. :)

About Bree and Hwin and Cor and Aravis: This story is drawing to a close and my sense of endings makes me think that much more on them would be for another story. I will of course get everyone back together and tie off all the threads I can. I have written a story with Cor and Aravis which I will be posting soon, but it focuses more on Corin and hasn't got the four in it at all. They are only mentioned.


	73. Thou Recreant!

Thou Recreant!

* * *

><p><em>May flowers always line your path and sunshine light your day. May songbirds serenade you every step along the way. May a rainbow run beside you in a sky that's always blue. And may happiness fill your heart each day your whole life through." <em>

~ An Irish Blessing

* * *

><p>That ride was beautiful. It was about thirty-five miles going directly from Cair Paravel to the Fife of Lantern's waste. It was a long ride, very long and they rode slowly. It took them about seven hours with stopping for rests. They rode through forests and past fields where the people were laboring to bring in the wheat. Their scythes flashed in the sun in long arcs and the grain fell before them like armies of gold.<p>

The farmers stooped and straightened, stooped and straightened, always wielding their scythes, their backs burnt as golden as the grain by the sun. Little farm girls brought gourds of water to them and talking horses pulled wagons laden with grain to the farm houses where it would be threshed by the women.

In the woods, the squirrels were all in a flurry, collecting nuts and hiding them in their storehouses. At one great oak two squirrels were having a disagreement over a particular storehouse and while the three watched, the squirrels began pitching acorns at each other, chattering angrily.

"Is this customary?" Tamash asked when he was struck in the face by a nut.

"With squirrels it is," Eustace said, "Oh wise chap!"

A chipmunk was hastily gathering up all the acorns that dropped and bounding off with them to a little hole in the ground.

"Just a matter of being in the right place at the right time!" the Chipmunk shouted over his shoulder.

They stopped to eat lunch with a group of brown bears. It was a very sticky ordeal, because the bears insisted on the travelers trying some of their honeycomb and in return, they wanted to try the fare the travelers had brought.

"Is _this _customary?" Tamash asked, his fingers dripping with honey.

After about half an hour, they mounted again and continued on their way. The forest ended and ahead was the Great River and the great stone bridge spanning it. Here, Susan dismounted. She walked to the riverbank and splashed in the water for a little while until a naiad came up to see who it was.

"Hullo," Susan said, "What is it you most desire?"

The naiad cocked her head and looked intently at Susan, "I don't know. What do you most desire?"

"I'd like to see the river god, if he's in," Susan replied.

The naiad slipped below the surface and Susan could see her for a little while, gliding smoothly through the water. She disappeared into a myriad of rock formations wreathed with strange and wonderful underwater flowers.

"What is that place?" Tamash asked, "Have you ever been there?"

"It is the palace of the river god," Susan replied, "I have never been inside because I can't hold my breath that long. Edmund and Peter glimpsed the inside once. They said it was quite indescribable."

Suddenly the waters parted and the river god himself rose above the surface, he was quite large, perhaps twice as tall as a man. He wore a green garment reminiscent of seaweed and he wore a crown of wonderful shells, brightly colored and sparkling.

"Hale Queen!" he boomed, bowing. "What may I do for you?"

"Hale, Aquarius, it is an honor to see you again," Susan curtseyed, "You are one of the oldest and wisest persons in Narnia, I thought perhaps you might know the answer of a certain question I would put to you."

"Ask, I will answer if I can," Aquarius replied, leaning his huge arms on the riverbank.

"What is it that women most desire?" Susan asked.

Aquarius cocked his head, "I would think you would know the answer more then I. Alas, I cannot answer this."

"I understand," Susan said smiling, "I have begun to wonder if it does have an answer."

"Perhaps you should ask the fair folk," Aquarius replied, "They seem to know the answers to many riddles."

"That was our intent," Susan said, "I suppose we must be going, then. I bid you a wonderful day and thank you."

Aquarius bowed reverently, then slipped below the waves. The Great River flowed on; silent, wide and deep. Susan turned and Eustace helped her on her horse.

"What a great and impressive creature he was," Tamash commented, "does every body of water have a god?"

"No, not every, in the same way, not every tree has a dryad." Susan replied, turning her horse's nose and riding towards the bridge, "Most bodies of running water have at least a naiad; sometimes even swamps have gods if they are big enough."

The bridge across the Great River spanned it in a series of graceful arcs, like the body of a sea monster. The bridge was built of pink granite and each arch was high enough to allow for the river wherries that were always sailing up and down the river transporting produce. The bridge was built here because this was the first place narrow enough to build it. If one didn't want to ride to the bridge then there were plenty of barges that did the job quite as well, though a bit slower.

They rode over the bridge, going in single file to allow for a farm cart that was coming towards them.

"How far are we from our destination?" Tamash asked when they were about half way across.

"Another twenty-five miles to go, I'd say," Eustace said, "But you've been this way earlier this summer. We're going to Elphame."

"Excellent!" Tamash exclaimed, "It will be an honor to see the fair folk again."

"I wonder if Mr. Tumnus knows what women most desire," Susan wondered aloud.

"He's still at Cair Paravel, it's a little late to ask him," Eustace commented, "Mrs. Beaver might know."

"A new spinning wheel, no doubt," Susan said, laughing. "Now that she's famous she's made Mr. Beaver build her an addition to keep her spinning wheels in. A finer collection I've never seen."

"I say, what's this?" Eustace said suddenly.

They were nearing the end of the bridge and they clearly saw the road leading away, beyond a copse of trees. Next to the road, on the grass, a knight in full armor sat on a great horse.

"Perhaps a tournament at one of the neighboring castles?" Susan suggested, "Lord Radon loves tournaments and his castle is only a few miles from here."

"Perhaps," Eustace said, shrugging.

"Is that what your knights wear to battle?" Tamash asked, eyeing the strange knight with interest.

"Of course not," Eustace said, "Imagine fighting a battle dolled up like that! No, full suits of armor are only worn at tournaments; the minstrels make up the rest."

The horses stepped off the bridge onto the road and the moment they did so, the strange knight blocked off their path with his horse.

"Art thou a recreant knight?" he asked, from behind his visor, pointing at Eustace.

"No," Eustace said shortly, "If you don't mind, you are blocking our way."

"You must stop and fight," the knight continued, "No knight passeth this bridge without doing battle with me; I am the keeper of the Great River Bridge!"

"You must be quite mistaken," Susan exclaimed, "there are no toll bridges in Narnia."

"Thou art wrong," the knight said, then drew a gleaming blade, "Prepare to bleed, thou recreant!"

Things happened very quickly after that. The knight kicked his horse forward into a gallop while Eustace drew his blade and angled his horse in front of Susan's. As the knight neared him, he ducked under the knight's blade, then delivered a resounding blow with the flat of his sword on the knight's helm. The knight made a strange sound, then toppled off his horse onto the ground.

"Is _that_ customary?" Tamash exclaimed, wide eyed.

"Oh Eustace!" Susan cried, dismounting, "You might have hurt him!"

"_I_ might have hurt _him_?" Eustace squeaked as Susan dropped to her knees and removed the knight's helm. "_I_ might have hurt _him_?" Eustace repeated incredulously. "Of all the-"

"Quick!" Susan said, leaning close to the knight, "What is it woman most desire?"

"Ough," the knight replied.

Susan stood up, brushing off her hands. "He's all right, he's responding and there's no concussion."


	74. The Curse of Tash Falls From Above

The Curse of Tash (Falls From Above)

* * *

><p><em>If wishes were horses Beggars would ride: If turnips were watches I would wear one by my side.<em>

~ English Proverb

* * *

><p>The two kings, with Cor between them, walked into the castle. They were immediately met by Lucy.<p>

"Where _have _you been?" She exclaimed breathlessly, "I've been searching for you everywhere. King Lune wants us all to have breakfast with him in the pillared room, then we'll decide what to do with Rabadash."

"Wallop off his head?" Edmund asked hopefully.

"Edmund, you blood thirsty wretch!" Peter exclaimed. "What an imagination my baby brother has," he said, shaking his head.

"Yes quite," Edmund said, then glanced at him evilly, "My dear agéd brother, am I right in thinking that you were gazing into the Lady Eva's eyes last night? Or was that just my imagination?"

"You _do_ have an imagination," Peter said, "Why on earth would I do a thing like that?"

"Oh do come on!" Lucy exclaimed, "You never _come,_ you always just stand around talking!"

~o*o~

Breakfast was drawing to a close and King Lune pushed away his plate and leaned back.

"The question is; what are we to do with him?" He asked at last.

"By your leave, sire," Lord Peridan said slowly, "the prince deserves death. He broke faith with your majesty, invading with no cause."

"Quite right, Peridan," King Lune said. "But I hate the thought of it. He seems such a foolish, rash boy; he's hardly yet a man."

"Brother," Lord Dar said, "I council you not to kill this Rabadash. Doing so would cause war with Calormen."

"Hang Calormen. Their numbers would never cross the desert," King Lune said.

"There are more ways to transport troops then overland," Edmund said quietly.

"I am altogether _not_ for killing," Lucy interjected. "And I'm sure Susan would say the same."

"This problem no longer has to do with Susan," Edmund said. "Rabadash has invaded soils belonging to Archenland without provocation, and has killed people of both Narnia and Archenland."

"Perhaps he would promise never to do it again," Lucy said slowly. "Especially if we tell him we'll execute him if we ever see him again."

"I tend to agree with Lucy," Peter spoke with the first time. "I doubt very much that he would muster enough courage to try such an escapade again."

"Even traitors can mend," Edmund said quietly, "If it weren't for forgiveness, where would any of us be?"

"I suppose," King Lune said, "well, send for the prisoner!"

Five minutes passed in which the conversation turned to the clouds that filled the sky and blocked the sun, and the golden color of the leaves in the crown of the oak tree just outside.

"I fear winter approaches," Lucy said sadly. "It is always the worst of times and brings back such horrid memories. I fear I will never really enjoy it again."

"If you say it one more time, I'll knock you down!" Corin's voice interrupted Lucy loudly and they all turned to see Cor, white-faced and angry and Corin, half standing up, his fist on the table.

"Whisht," King Lune said sharply. "What is this? Calm yourselves and tell me."

"He's trying to tell me that he's not smart enough to be king!" Corin exploded. "He only got himself and his friends all the way from Calormen!"

"That wasn't exactly-" Cor began.

"No one's going to tell me that my brother isn't smart, my brother least of all!" Corin exclaimed.

"I haven't had the education," Cor faltered.

"Ah, my son, it isn't education that makes a king," King Lune said gently, he turned to Peter, who sat next to him, "What would you say makes a king? I say to be a king is this, to be first in every desperate charge, last in every desperate retreat and in times of famine to laugh louder and eat less than any men in the kingdom."

"Aye," Peter said quietly. "A king must also be a servant in to his people. He may be first in the kingdom, yet he must be willing to be last, willing to sacrifice himself for all."

"All this is true," Edmund spoke. "But I think that all this may be summed up. A king must know the truth, believe the truth and finally act on this believe. This is the hardest of all."

"So you see, Cor," Lucy said, half smiling, "the mettle of a king is not measured by his learning, but by what is in his heart."

"What have I got in my heart?" Cor asked.

"We'll soon see, I think," Lucy said.

Presently Rabadash, between two armed centaurs, was brought into the chamber. He had been splendidly dressed, but he had been in such a rage that his clothes were now rumpled, his boots hopelessly scuffed and his face hollow from sleeplessness, though he had been provided with fine accommodations.

"Prince Rabadash!" King Lune exclaimed. "You need not be told that because of your rash actions these past few days, we would in all lawfulness be quite able to strike off your head and be done with it. However, because of your youth and lack education received in such a land as Calormen and because of the kind words of the rulers of Narnia, we are inclined to set you free, on these conditions-"

"Silence dog!" Rabadash exclaimed. "How dare you abuse our royal person in such a barbarous manner? It is simple to articulate of ill-nurture to a man restrained. Furnish me a sword, then dare you debate with me!"

There was complete silence. Peter gaped.

"I had no idea he was so venomous," he said thoughtfully. "I have a feeling my vote will go towards the beheading idea if this keeps up."

"Silence, lackey!" Rabadash cried.

"Father! Father!" Corin choked, "May I box him?"

"Peace Corin, sit down, or leave the table," King Lune said. "Prince Rabadash, I again ask you to hear our conditions!"

"Tash curse you, flea!" Rabadash cried. "And curse the barbarian woman who brought me here! False jade, barbarian dog that she is!"

The whole company came to their feet at this.

"Silence!" Peter's voice rang out, strong, commanding. "You will not speak of my sister so in my presence!"

"I hear no conditions!" Rabadash continued on, undaunted and slightly giddy at his own words. "You are barbarians and sorcerers! Dare not insult me again, or the Tisroc will approach and Archenland and Narnia together will be oceans of fire and blood! Appalling will be the retribution of the Tisroc and more terrible still will be the reprisal of Tash! It shall be a saga to startle the nations for a thousand years!"

It was then that a shaft of sunlight came through the window and shone in a long golden beam across the floor. The clouds had parted, Lucy thought, as she looked towards the window. Then she gasped. A moment later, everyone else gasped, also.

The Lion, Aslan, stood before them, just to Rabadash's left. Rabadash himself was the last to turn, he had frozen where he stood and slowly, as if immensely frightened, he looked at the Lion.

"Rabadash," Aslan said, slowly, his voice as smooth as golden silk, "Your doom is near, but you may yet avoid it. Why are your proud? Why are you angry? These kings have shown you only mercy, accept it and go free."

Rabadash's face had gone very white as he looked into the great, golden face of the Lion, level with his own. His hands shook visibly and he clasped them together.

"Atrocious appalling apparition!" Rabadash whispered, his voice quivering. "I know you! You are the demon, the adversary of the gods!" Slowly his voice rose to an unnatural sound, his voice breaking halfway between a squeal and a shriek. "You will not encompass me! I am descended from Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible. The curse of Tash upon you! Look upon me no longer!" he half shielded his face from the fiery brilliance of the Lion. "May lightning rain down you in the shape of scorpions! May thunder hurl you from your feet'-"

"Have a care, Rabadash," the Lion said, quietly, his voice unchanged. "Your fate approaches you even now, yet you still have time to keep it in check."

"Abscond from me before you expire, foul fiend!" Rabadash screamed, "May the terrain ingest you! May the firmament precipitate hail upon you! May Tash deal unsympathetically with you!"

"It is too late, Rabadash," Aslan continued, unmoved. "Your doom in upon you."

Suddenly, Rabadash began to change. All those seated at the table leaned forward in interest and watched with increasing awe as Rabadash's ears grew long, longer, gray, covered with thick, soft hair. They flapped and the company burst into laughter. Rabadash let loose a noise very like a bray and dropped to all fours, but now they saw that his hands and feet had turned into flinty hooves and his face had grown longer. He was now completely covered with gray hair and a tail with a thick brush at the end, whipped around his hindquarters.

There was complete silence as the company eyed the strange, new apparition that stood before them.

"But, he's adorable!" Lucy burst out with the thought that had come into all their heads.

Rabadash turned his soft gray head, opened his mouth and let out a long bray over his yellow teeth. He shook his mane, glanced around himself and stamped his hooves.

"Now Rabadash," Aslan said, calmly. "You shall not always be a donkey."

Rabadash twitched his ears forward at this and the company rocked with barely suppressed mirth.

"You have invoked Tash, therefore, at the temple of Tash you shall be healed," Aslan continued. "In the sight of all Tashbaan, at the great Autumn feast of this year, you must stand before the temple of Tash, and there you will be restored to your formal self. But listen, after this you shall never travel more than ten miles from that temple. If you do, the shape of a donkey will return to you and you shall have no hope of healing."

Then quite suddenly, everyone blinked; a cloud seemed to have gone over the sun and when they looked, they saw that Aslan had gone. The donkey remained, looking unbearably soft and adorable as he stood there with his potbelly, big soft brown eyes, long fuzzy ears and tiny hooves.

"Um," King Lune began, his heart clove in two at Rabadash's most unfortunate condition, though, quite secretly, he rather liked it. He glanced sideways at his companions: Edmund had covered his face and was staring through his figures in a vain attempt to hide a smile. Peter's arms were crossed, his eyes twinkled and the corner of his mouth kept twitching. Lucy leaned forward, her mouth slightly open, staring at Rabadash with adoring eyes. Lord Peridan had laid his forehead on the table and his shoulders heaved, though not from grief. The Lady Eva was leaning forward, her mouth hanging open and as King Lune watched, she shut it with a snap. The Lords Dar and Darrin both stared at Rabadash with stony countenances; his conduct of moments earlier was still prominent in their minds. The Prince Cor, was grinning one of the first grins King Lune had seen on him and it became him very well. Prince Corin…

"Shame Corin!" King Lune exclaimed, "Never taunt a man, save he is stronger then you, then; as you please."

And Prince Corin's tongue vanished from view and his ears ceased their wiggling.

"Now, Prince Rabadash," King Lune said, turning his attention back to the donkey, "We are deeply grieved by your most unfortunate condition and are sorry that it had to come to such an extremity. We will, however, be delighted to provide you and your knights with shipping back to Calormen in good time for the…er…treatment, Aslan has proscribed," King Lune smiled and his good sense of humor got the better of him, "You shall be provided with every comfort a man in your position could wish for; the best turnips, the finest carrots, the freshest thistles-"

His words were cut off by a heartbroken bray from Rabadash.

* * *

><p>AN: Really sorry about not answering your reviews lately. Maybe tonight? We're all busy, the computer isn't working and we've been going everywhere lately. My mother is trying to clean the house and I'm trying to help her and do school work at the same time. Arrg!

anyway, I've read all your reviews and appreciated them all greatly and hopefully soon I'll be able to give them the answers they all deserve. Thanks so much for all the time you've put in reading this story and commenting. I'll never be able to thank you enough! I'd like to think that my writing has improved due to your valuable input.

~Psyche


	75. Elphame

Elphame

* * *

><p><em>Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,<em>

_For I would ride with you upon the wind,_

_Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,_

_And dance upon the mountains like a flame._

~ William Butler Yeats

* * *

><p>"I seemed to be plagued by watching humans turning into various forms of livestock this summer," Peter commented the moment Rabadash exited the hall, his tiny hooves beating a staccato note on the paving stones.<p>

There was a general shout of laughter, not so much at Peter's words, but more that laughter had been penned up and was bursting free like a flood bursting a dam.

"Now what are we going to do?" Lucy asked, wiping tears from her eyes.

There was silence for a moment, then Cor spoke hesitantly.

"Sirs…if I may…"

"Speak up, lad," King Lune said kindly. "Any request is yours."

"I would like to borrow a horse and ride to the Hermit of the Southern March, my friends are there."

"Of course!" King Lune exclaimed, "I shall at least come! I should love to meet them! The horses Bree and Hwin and of course the Lady Aravis!"

"We'll all come!" Lucy exclaimed.

Cor looked uncomfortable, "Do you think I could go in first?"

"Of course! Of course!" King Lune said, "Come lad, shall we go to the stables?"

* * *

><p>It was about an hour later that they turned off the main road onto a narrow path leading through the woods. It was very quiet, disturbed only by the wild trilling of a distant bird. The wind sighed softly through the slender birches and the leaves of the trees were still the bright, verdant color of spring. In the distance, they heard the sound of water, pouring playfully down a waterfall.<p>

Before very long, they came to the water and rode beside it some distance.

"This is Duskwater," Susan explained to Tamash.

Then before them, they saw the waterfall, pouring down in misty tires from high above a rock face. The foamy foot of the waterfall ended in a smooth round pool, swirling in eddies, then continuing down the river. As they watched the cool, clear pool swirl about jagged rocks, they saw many small, curious faces watching them from under the water and around rocks.

"Are they naiads?" Tamash asked in a hushed voice.

"No," Susan said, "they are a bit different, though I'm often at a loss as to how. They look different for one thing. The water pixies are not so tall as naiads."

A moment later, one of the water pixies climbed up the bank to look at them better. He was a little thing, probably only three feet high, chubby as a cherub, with tiny silver wings.

"Hello, strangers!" he called, "Welcome to Elphame! How may I assist you?"

"I am here to see Auberon and Maev," Susan replied, "Is it possible that it could be arranged?"

"I'll go see," the pixie said, then turned and dived back into the pool.

"I don't remember this place," Tamash remarked after a moment.

"We came from the other direction," Susan said, "This is a more often used entrance. Cauldron Pool is down this river a few miles."

About three minutes later, another faery came towards them through the woods. He was all dressed in green and was taller and slimmer then the fat pixie in the water.

"Puck!" Susan called.

The faery made a low bow, "My lady. I apologize for your wait. We were not aware of your coming! Please, leave your horses here and follow me."

They dismounted and turned the horses loose to graze, then followed the faery. He led them up a narrow path up a sharp hill, where the knotted roots of a sycamore made shallow steps. The path leveled, but the banks rose ahead of it. The path turned sharply and before them was a high opening in the sandstone, just under the waterfall. Puck led onward into the tunnel.

It was quite light in there, the roof was open and water shot over it in a clear blue sheet, misting the travelers with spray. The sandstone walls had been polished smooth and veins of opal threaded across them.

They progressed up again and at last they came out into a room with a high green ceiling and looking up, they saw that it was made of the branches of living trees. The walls were their intertwined trunks and the floor was the softest moss. At the end of the room were two moss-covered thrones side by side on a pile of boulders, shrouded with strange ivy and its snow-white flowers.

Auberon and Maev stood before the thrones, shrouded in robes that gleamed and changed like the opal veins in the walls of the tunnel.

"Fairest of mortals!" Maev exclaimed coming forward to take Susan's hands, "What brings you to our humble abode? Have you come to see Baeth and Xenon?"

"Baeth?" Susan asked, "Is Baeth here?"

"We took him some nights ago, because he needed more help than the Marshwiggles could give." Maev explained. "But if not to see Baeth, why have you come?"

"I came for help," Susan said.

"Help?" Auberon asked. "Has something happened in Archenland we were not aware of?"

"No, nothing like that," Susan said. "I must find the answer of a riddle before tomorrow."

"A riddle?" Maev said, "How intriguing. I love riddles."

"What is it a woman most desires?" Susan asked.

"That is indeed a riddle," Auberon said. "One at least I am not able to answer."

"Alas, I also do not know the answer." Maev added.

Susan's shoulders drooped and Eustace stared fixedly at the ground, Tamash's face showed the grief they all felt.

"But don't despair," Maev said, "Come, stay awhile. You must be weary."

They followed her out of the green room, back into the sandstone hallway. The tunnel sloped downwards again and they came out into a cave in the rock, opening to the great sheet of waterfall cascading down the cliff. The light sparkled through it like a myriad of sparks. They could see the pixies playing in the water, oddly distorted, but laughing.

They sat at a table with a round basin heaped with bright flowers and a faery maid poured them yellow wine. Other maids brought them sweetmeats, biscuits and other lovely things that only faeries know how to make.

They stayed there an hour, laughing, talking and forgetting their cares. The travelers told of their journey and Auberon and Maev laughed heartily about the strange answers they had gotten from some people about the riddle.

At last Susan turned to Maev, "Is Baeth well enough to receive visitors? I would dearly like to see him."

"Of course!" Maev exclaimed. "I should have thought of that at once. Come, I'll bring you to him."

They all rose and followed her down a hallway, she paused before a door and they all glimpsed a young man with dark hair lying on a bed of heather.

"That is Xenon," Maev said quietly as they stopped. "Indeed, I fear for his life. His wounds are healing, but he is still unconscious."

"Who is Xenon?" Susan asked, "I could get no tale from my brother."

"Perhaps Baeth himself will tell you," Maev said, leading on.

They found Baeth sitting in a large, strangely furnished room, reading a book of faerie lore. Only Susan entered the room, the others held back, watching as Baeth leapt to his feet and bowed. Susan caught him as he tottered and made him sit again.

"You majesty!" Baeth exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting you!"

"I wasn't expecting to see _you_ either," Susan said, laughing. "But your sister and brother are terribly concerned. Clyte wished to ride to the Marshwiggles and I imagine that by now she has reached it and found you missing."

Baeth hung his head, "I'm sorry if she has, but Mudgloom will tell her where I am."

"It was certainly ill done of you to leave without telling anyone, but I've had dealings with boys who do such things."

"Prince Corin?" Baeth asked with a laugh.

"And my brothers; Peter in particular." Susan said with a wry smile, then reached out to take Baeth's hands. "Will _you_ tell me what befell you and Peter in the North?"

Baeth was silent, then slowly, fumblingly he began to tell. Susan was a good listener and only occasionally did she interrupt to ask a question. At last, it began to pour out of him, every last horrid detail and when he had finished, he felt like the empty pitcher that sat unnoticed on the table.

"That was certainly a tale," Susan said. "How _did_ Peter come to rescue you?"

"I don't know, he didn't say," Baeth said, his head slumping. "He didn't say much afterwards, only that he had to ride to Cair Paravel."

"You're tired, you should rest," Susan said gently. "I'll tell your sister and brother how you are when I return."

"Thank you."

At last, Susan rose and bowed to her host and hostess where they stood waiting in the doorway, "I fear we must be leaving you, though I thank you for your hospitality."

"Surely you will stay the night!" Maev exclaimed, "It is far too long a ride back to Cair Paravel. You _must _stay, why; it is already two of the clock. You would not be getting back until nine or ten tonight."

"We would not wish to inconvenience you," Susan began.

"Inconvenience?" Maev exclaimed, "I would be inconvenienced if you _did_ go! No, no, really, you must stay. I would not hear of you leaving."

Susan smiled and bowed her head in submission, "We would be honored."

* * *

><p><strong>Hannah Skipper:<strong> The donkey was meant to be adorable. Google Sicilian Donkeys and you'll see what I mean :) Oh! I've always wanted a dog! We were never able to have one because _somebody_ has allergies (Rose). Someday I'll get one, maybe a German Shepherd or some sort of lollopy hound. :) Have fun with the Puppy! (and the reunion!)

~Psyche


	76. Cor and Aravis

Cor and Aravis

* * *

><p><em>Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. <em>

~ A. A. Milne

* * *

><p>Aravis was standing outside, watching a butterfly rest on a flower when she heard the sound of galloping hooves and snorting horses and glancing through the north gate, Aravis saw a group of horsemen, just dismounting. One lone figure did not and he rode closer to the gate before swinging off his horse.<p>

Aravis watched as he walked through the long grass and paused before the wrought iron gate, looking at her hesitantly. He was tall and fair-haired with a thin gold circlet on his head. He was splendidly dressed in a silk doublet and a cloak edged with fur and he wore a sword at his waist. His horse was a beautiful blood bay mare with green trappings.

"Shasta!" Aravis exclaimed, "Do come in. We were expecting you."

Hesitantly, he opened the gate and slipped in.

"Look here, Aravis," Shasta began very quickly. "I haven't come all dressed up like this with the crown and all to impress you, I would have come by myself in my old clothes, but my father insisted on coming along-"

"Your _father_?" Aravis exclaimed.

"King Lune," Shasta said, turning red. "With me looking so like Corin, they all decided I was a long lost child that was stolen away from Archenland long ago. Apparently, I'm Corin's twin brother and my name is Cor."

"Cor," Aravis said. Then she spoke hurriedly, "Look, I've been wanting to say I'm sorry for a long time-"

"Sorry for what?" Cor asked, startled.

"Sorry for being horrid," Aravis said, "No…no, don't try to deny it, it's true…I've been snubbing you and looking down at you all this time. And I'm not saying all this to impress _you_, now that you're a prince and all. I've been meaning to say it for a long time."

"I never thought you needed to apologize," Cor said hesitantly.

"Stop being a gentleman!" Aravis exclaimed.

"I'm sorry!" Cor said.

"Don't apologize, either," Aravis continued. "What was it like in the battle?"

"How did _you _know I was in the battle?" Cor asked.

"The Hermit has a magic pool," Aravis explained. "He could see everything in it and he told us about it. What was it like, anyway?"

"Awful," Cor said. "I didn't want to do it at all, but Corin insisted. I have a feeling he's going to insist on a lot of things I won't want to do and I'll have to do them anyway. We would both be dead now if the High King hadn't come."

"It must have been exciting, anyway," Aravis said.

"It wasn't." Cor said. "It was blood and gore and heads rolling every which way. I didn't know how to ride my horse and knew how to use my sword even less. We ended up escaping through the sewers."

"Cor," Aravis said her mind leaping to other things, "_how _did you get to Calormen anyway? I can't imagine your father just left you there and sailed away."

"No, he didn't," Cor said. "He told me all about it last night at dinner. Apparently, I was kidnapped by the Lord Chancellor, Lord Bar. When I was born, my father took Corin and me to be blessed by the great Narnian centaur-prophet, Equus (I met him you know, while I was in Narnia, he's a most amazing fellow). Anyway, Equus said to me, quote, "A day will come when that boy will save Archenland from the deadliest danger in which ever she lay.

"At the time, there was a witch ruling in Narnia and she wanted to take over Archenland too, so she told Lord Bar to kidnap me. But it turns out that he got more money from the Tisroc, who also wanted to take over Archenland _and_ Narnia, so he kidnapped me and brought me to Calormen instead, only he never got there.

"My father put to sea with two of his fastest galleons and gave chase (apparently King Edmund and King Peter, before they were kings, came too) on the third day, they overhauled the Calormene ship, boarded her and battled the crew, but when they won the battle, I was nowhere to be found and one of the ship's boats was gone. Aslan told me it was he who pushed the boat with me and the sailor ashore-"

"You've met Aslan too?" Aravis exclaimed.

"Yes, a couple nights ago," Cor said. "It seems like an age by now."

"I think _he's_ ageless." Aravis said, then added, "For the record, I like Cor much better than Shasta."

"Well…thanks," Cor said, extremely gratified.

"Shas- Cor," Aravis stumbled over his name, "Thank you for the goat, the one you carved."

"Oh, that…that was nothing, really," Cor blushed.

"Yes it was, it meant a great deal," Aravis said seriously. "Really."

"Where are the horses? They _are_ here?" Cor asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

"Of course! In fact, there they are!" Aravis said, looking over her shoulder, "Let's go to them!"

The horses had been standing back some way, for a while, shyly watching the goings on. Cor and Aravis walked to them.

"Prince Cor, is it?" Bree asked. "I'm delighted to see you!"

"I'm delighted to see _you_!" Cor exclaimed.

"I'm afraid we were eavesdropping," Hwin said, smiling, "so you needn't explain anything."

"That's all right," Cor said. "Now you must meet everyone!"

"Meet everyone?" Aravis asked.

"Yes, my father, Corin," Cor said. "They've all come along, except of course, Queen Susan, she's still at Cair Paravel. I do hope you'll be able to meet her some time."

"We would be honored to meet them!" Aravis exclaimed.

Cor went to the gate and waved, then came back to stand next to Aravis, instantly, the party mounted again and cantered through the long grass towards them. They halted and dismounted, then filed through the gate, Cor naming them as they came.

"There's King Lune, my father," he said proudly as a tall, stout, jolly sort of man came through the gate. Behind him was a tall, fair-haired boy, very like Cor. "That's Corin, my twin."

Behind them came two tall men, one golden, one dark, both strangely imposing and commanding.

"That is the High King of Narnia, Peter and his brother, King Edmund," Cor said. Then two more people came through the gate, arm in arm and laughing, a golden haired lady with laughing blue eyes and a red haired lady, slightly taller.

"That's Queen Lucy and the Lady Eva," Corin said, then added, "That's Lord Peridan," as a final man came through the gate, closed it, then waited by it as the others strode across the lawn towards Cor and Aravis.

"This, I assume, is the lady Aravis!" King Lune exclaimed, bowing low and kissing Aravis' hand. Blushing, Aravis curtseyed.

"I am honored to meet you, sire!"

"And I you!" King Lune boomed, "Cor has never tired of telling of your bravery and wit."

"_My _bravery and wit?" Aravis exclaimed, "What about his? Why, he even rushed a lion to save me!"

"Rushed a lion…did he indeed?" King Lune said, enormously pleased, "How is it you never told me about this, Cor?"

"I'd forgotten," Cor said.

"Well, you'll have to remember and tell me about it sometime, now!" he turned to Bree and Hwin, "I'm delighted to see you! I've also heard much about you and I'm deeply indebted to you!"

"Thank you sire," Bree said, humbly, "but the honor is all ours."

"Now, you must all come back to Anvard!" king Lune said, "and you are all welcome to stay as long as you wish!" he turned and looked at Aravis, "Cor tells me none of you had any particular intentions when you arrived, so I thought perhaps you, little lady, might agree to stay with us permanently, I'm sure we would be delighted to have you."

"You really mean it?" Aravis exclaimed, "I was quite at a loss as to what I would do, I would love to stay at Cair Anvard!"

"Of course I mean it!" King Lune exclaimed.

"And you'll have to come visit us sometime too," Lucy said, taking Aravis' arm, "I'd love to hear your story."

~o*o~

They rode back to the castle and learned the story of Bree, Hwin and Aravis as they went.

Bree and Hwin were a bit tongue tied to be spoken to as equals by grown men, kings no less. They had been used only to being spoken to by children. But Bree recovered himself and told their story in the grand Calormen style, speaking of Hwin, Aravis and Cor in glowing terms and mentioning himself hardly at all. Cor was surprised, it seemed Bree had become quite a different sort of horse.

"He's seen Aslan too," Aravis whispered.


	77. What Women Most Desire

What Women Most Desire

* * *

><p><em>It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle if it is lightly greased.<em>

~ Kehlog Albran

* * *

><p>So they stayed.<p>

Supper was eaten in the Great Hall, the largest cavern of all under the rock. The food was strange and wonderful and Tamash especially was impressed by it. As dinner drew to a close, Maev bade the fairest of all mortals to sing for them and Susan sang to please them, her voice heard even by the nightingales in the forest. Then a faery came forward and told a long ballade, describing the creation of the earth and the entrance of King Frank and Queen Helen.

At last, the travelers retired to their rooms and fell into a deep sleep, lulled by the constant sound of the waterfall, among scented pillows, and moonlight gleaming down on them.

* * *

><p>The Narnians stayed the rest of that day and that evening, they had a feast on the lawn near the west wall of the castle. Tables were set up and the feast was laid. Aravis enjoyed it immensely. It wasn't half as big as some Calormen feasts she had been to, but it wasn't cold and hard, it was warm and more homely and everybody liked everybody else and she found herself talking to complete strangers as if they were old friends.<p>

As the dusk grew and the moon rose, lanterns hanging on long ropes zigzagging between trees were lit and an old bard came forward. He sang the tale of Olvin and how he fought the two-headed giant, Pire and turned him to stone, then won the love of a fair maid Liln.

Then Lucy, laughing and bright, stepped from the shadows and sang a piece of her own composition. One that many knew well and some, like Cor, Aravis, Bree and Hwin knew not at all. It was the story of how Queen Lucy, King Edmund, Queen Susan and the High King, Peter, all came from a castle called War Drobe from the land of Spare Oom and overthrew a great and evil witch (of course, it all went quite differently than this, but Lucy was so enchanted with the legend that she told it this way instead.)

When it grew quite dark, the lanterns were all put out and more fireworks were launched for good measure. At last, probably around midnight, when nearly everyone was yawning, they turned in.

~o*o~

Eva was just going in herself when Edmund caught her by the elbow.

"You're up to something, aren't you," Edmund said accusingly, shaking a finger under her nose, "What is it? I've seen the way you and Peter have been giggling. I must warn you, I haven't recovered from your first of spring joke yet. The gravy and mashed potatoes instead of ice cream and chocolate sauce was a bit too thick."

"High Kings don't giggle," Eva said archly, "No, I'm not planning anything; Peter's doing all that for me. He does love to plan. I think this one will be a real shocker, though. _Believe me_, the first of spring joke was nothing compared to what this will be. I think I'm pretty safe though, I've got the High King on my side. King Lune is part of it too. Even your great mind won't stop us from making this thing go through."

Then she winked and slipped through the door. Shaking his head, Edmund followed.

"Am I getting scared; Peter planning?" Edmund said. "We'll see about this…"

"He plans battles on the backs of envelopes, didn't you know that?" Eva called over her shoulder.

"Oh _does _he?" Edmund asked. "Hm...I'll have to look at his envelopes."

Eva stopped, "I've got some here if you want them."

"I want," Edmund said, stopping to watch while she went through her big reticule.

"Um…let's see, thimble, corkscrew, string, scissors…here we go," she held up an envelope triumphantly, "Here's the one with the drawing of you, don't be offended by the big ears, I think they're cute."

"Big ears!" Edmund snatched it and stared incredulously. "Peter an artist? Help! I _do _not have big ears!"

~o*o~

"Lady Aravis?"

Aravis looked back to see King Lune and his two sons standing at the bottom of the stairs. The sound of the party still lingered in her ears as the moon shined through the window on the landing, lighting the stairway starkly.

"Lady Aravis?" King Lune said again, "I wonder if I might have a word?"

"Of course, your majesty," Aravis turned and came down the stairs, sinking into a deep Calormene curtsey, "Your majesties."

"I say Aravis," Cor began, rather hesitantly, "You needn't…"

"Lady Aravis," King Lune said, taking her hand and making her stand, "We have a prisoner. A Calormen prisoner of course, who says he knows you and would like to speak to you. I wonder if you might be interested? Some old friend perhaps."

Aravis clutched his hand with both her own.

"What is his name?" She whispered.

"Horeb."

~o*o~

Horeb, her brother, Horeb, his face disfigured by a long gash on his cheek.

"It was the Lady Eva," he said with half a smile. I recognized her as we traded blows. I'd only seen her from across the Cair Paravel Great Hall. I recognized her only just in time, though it goes against my nature to kill a lady."

"Will you stay Horeb?" Aravis asked, "Will you stay in Archenland?"

"I dearly wish to, sister," Horeb said.

* * *

><p>The next morning, they rose early and breakfasted with Auberon and Maev. Their horses were saddled and their host and hostess accompanied them outside to watch them leave.<p>

Maev embraced Susan.

"I promise you, fairest of all mortals, when you return to Cair Paravel, you will find the answer of your riddle," She said, stepping back.

Eustace turned to her, his relief marked on his face, "We cannot possibly thank you enough."

"Thank me not," Maev said, smiling, "I have had no part in it. A wise mortal is often wiser then a wise faery and a witless faery is not nearly as stupid as a dull mortal."

Susan smiled, half wondering what she meant. Again, she thanked them for their hospitality, Eustace and Tamash adding to her eloquence. Then she turned to Baeth where he stood to the side, pale, but smiling.

"We'll see you back at Cair Paravel soon," Susan said, hugging him and realizing that he was taller than she. "Peridan will probably be up for you as soon as he gets back from Archenland."

"I hope King Peter is all right."

"He's as right as one can be riding around with broken ribs and the like," Susan said laughing. Eustace caught her hand and propelled her towards and horse and a moment later, they were riding away, Susan still looking back in her saddle and waving.

* * *

><p>It was midmorning the next day when the Narnians departed from Cair Anvard in a carriage borrowed from King Lune.<p>

"It isn't going to make Peter any better," Lucy had said, "to ride a horse all that way."

The Narnian army itself, under Ahearn, had been marching slowly back since yesterday and they passed it as the driver urged the horses to a canter and the carriage fairly flew over the road.

* * *

><p>The ride back to Cair Paravel was delightful. Susan felt that a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she rode tall, her head high. Ophelia felt her mood and arched her neck aristocratically. The sun was very warm and golden and the world was a glory of greens and browns with a hint of gold in the trees. A cool wind blew from the north, reminding them that winter was advancing.<p>

The town of Burntwood was small but prosperous, located on the outskirts of the fife of Leicester. Evan quite far from it, the threesome could see something was happening there. Balloons, brightly colored and glowing, were slowly rising above the town, some on tethers and others, with daredevils aboard, going on flights to the neighboring fields. One, a blue one, heavily decorated, drifted overhead and the passengers leaned from the basket and waved.

The three rode on, through the town and past the green, where the balloons were being launched. It appeared that there was a fair going on, too. There were jugglers, men on stilts, some breathing fire, others doing acrobatics. A traveling magician was doing simple magic for an admiring crowd.

The three spent half an hour going through the crowd and randomly asking what the women most desired. Some wanted young husbands, others wanted to be more holy, one wanted riches, another wanted a new dress, one wished the book she was writing would get done…the answers were as random as the people they asked.

"I think there is no use asking here anymore," Eustace said at last, "We've gotten all these answers scores of times."

So they continued on. They stopped for another half an hour to watch a joust outside some Lord's castle until the sun was directly overhead. Then they rode on, eating on horseback. It was then that they came out of the trees and saw Cair Paravel in the distance. An hour later, they were riding through the gates and about to dismount when they heard carriage wheels ratting over the cobblestones.

Susan slid from Ophelia and watched while a carriage and four, preceded and followed by mounted guards, came through the last gate into the palace courtyard and come to a halt near them. Before the footmen could jump down from their positions, the carriage door swung open and Lucy stepped out.

"Susan!" she called and ran into her sister's open arms. "Have you just been out riding?"

"Rather," Susan said, "We've been out since yesterday."

"A dispute to settle?" Peter asked, coming up.

"No," Susan said, "Nothing like that. We've been to Elphame to ask advice."

"Why?" Edmund asked.

Susan took a deep breath, "Kloris wants revenge."

"Kloris?" Peter's face was stricken.

"She told me that a witch never dies. It seems that most of her power is gone," Susan explained. "She decided that she would kill me."

"Why didn't she?" Peter asked.

"I think she enjoys pain and suffering," Susan said heavily, "she asked me a riddle and told me that in three days time, if I didn't find the answer, she would finish me off. I've been out since that afternoon, asking everyone."

"What is the riddle?" Edmund asked, his voice as taut as a bowstring.

"What is it a woman most desires?"

They stared at each other blankly for a moment, then Peter shook his head.

"You've asked _everyone_?"

"Every woman I could find I've asked," Susan replied.

"Oh come now!" Eva exclaimed from where she stood on tiptoe, now looking over Peter's shoulder, now trying to see between him and Edmund. At last, frustrated, she came around them completely. "That's entirely easy!"

"Easy?" Susan exclaimed, "You know the answer?"

"Of course," Eva said, "What's that old saying? It takes one to know one. You see, I'm a bit of this sort myself, well, not just a bit…anyway, let me whisper it to you, no use giving it away _too _soon."

She stepped forward, cupped her hands about her mouth and whispered in Susan's ear. Susan's face brightened and she laughed.

"Well isn't it true?" Eva asked, laughing with her, "It's human nature, really. Everyone has a touch of it."

"What is it?" Edmund exclaimed.

"You'll see," Susan said, "Kloris should arrive presently."

"This could be dangerous," Peter began.

"No," Susan said, "Let's go in. I saw Baeth while I was there."

"Baeth!" Peter exclaimed, "And Xenon? How are they?"

From the other side of the courtyard Lord Peridan heard his brother's name and he came at the run. "Is my brother well, your majesty? Where is he?"

"Baeth is recovering nicely," Susan said. "Though Xenon is still very ill. They are both with the faeries at Elphame."

"Majesties," Peridan asked. "May I have your permission to go at once and see him?"

"Of _course_," Peter said. "You go with all our blessings."

~o*o~

They sat in the same upstairs sitting room in which Susan had first seen Kloris. Susan, seemingly unconcerned, had taken up her embroidery and was sewing away dutifully.

The others were not so calm.

Eustace sat brooding, his back to everyone. Edmund was repeatedly throwing a ball of wadded up paper at the wall and catching it again. Peter was pacing the room, randomly beginning to speak, then changing his mind. Lucy was absentmindedly tangling her hair. Eva was humming nervously to herself, and Tamash was staring at a magnificently framed painting on the wall.

Then, quite suddenly, there was a blast of green light and Kloris stood in their midst.

Eustace was on his feet in a moment, his sword in his upraised hand.

"Eustace! No!" Susan cried out and Peter tried to wrestle the sword away from him.

"Quite right," Kloris said, "I should have killed him."

They stood still before her, watching her warily.

"So we meet again, King Peter," Kloris said, smiling thinly, but she turned at once to Susan, "Shall I claim my prize?"

"Never!" Eustace exclaimed. Peter and Edmund said nothing, but their expressions spoke louder then Eustace's voice.

"There is no need for all that," Susan said, stepping forward. "We have the answer to the riddle."

Kloris' face went a shade paler, "Never!" she whispered.

Susan threw her head back, her long black hair streaming and reflecting the sunlight in the window with sparks of fire. Her gentle grey eyes were hard as steel.

"What a woman desires most is her own way," Susan said.

Kloris reeled backwards as if Susan had struck her. "May you burn in fire!" she screamed.

But another voice, a deeper, more beautiful voice joined hers, "Be gone madam, your time in this age has passed, trouble these good kings and queens no more."

The light that filled the room was brilliant, shimmering gold and silver and all the colors of the rainbow. The metal work in the room danced in the light, frolicking like liberated stars, then at last all came to rest as the light faded and they saw Aslan himself, huge and wonderful, his eyes full of joy and of Kloris, there was no sign.

"Do not fear her," he said when they had all risen to their feet again, "she has played her game and lost. Someday, many years from now, she will play again, but it will not be your concern. Now, farewell."

And he was gone as quickly as he had come and the room dulled the same way the light dulls when a candle is snuffed out.

"He always goes so quickly," Lucy said at last, "He never stays like he used to."

"Perhaps it is because we know him better now," Susan said, running her arm around her sister's waist.

"Well," Eva said, "I'm glad _that's _over."

"How on earth did you know the answer to the riddle?" Peter said, turning to her.

"I just did," Eva said, smiling. "Deep down inside all people want their own way."

* * *

><p>AN: Oh, this is awful! Sorry it's been so long since we've posted. We've been so busy, Rose has started a new job and Psyche is doomed to school work for the rest of the summer. So we're a little behind on reviews and the rest.

**Hannah Skipper**: We're glad you liked Rabadash! There will be a bit more about fairies, we really like them. We are also glad to hear about Debbie's lack of damage to you and your reunion! Ollie sounds like a heap of fun, despite the damage. Thank you so much for your reviews!


	78. Farewell

Farewell

* * *

><p><em>Gone - flitted away,<em>

_Taken the stars from the night and the sun_

_From the day!_

_Gone, and a cloud in my heart._

~ Alfred Tennyson

* * *

><p>That afternoon, Lucy stood overlooking the ocean. The others stood well back behind her, their faces serene. The sun was low in the sky, casting golden radiance over the rocky cliffs and stretching sand. She watched the white maned waves unroll and hurl themselves up the beach. She saw the seagulls dip and soar with unlimited freedom.<p>

The Kelpies stood, one either side of her, their manes dripping coldly on her hands as she held their lead ropes. Their ears were pricked forward towards the rolling surf, their nostrils flared to the salt sea air.

Gently, she stroked the white velvet of their necks and thought how very like otter skin it was.

"Thank you, my friends," she softly, "You have done me a great service."

Deftly, she unhooked their halters and slipped them off their noble heads. The Kelpies stood for a moment, their heads up, their manes swept by the wind. Then they leapt forward as if one, water from their bodies flashing in the sunlight. Spray leapt up from their hooves and as she watched, they rolled themselves one with the waves, leaping upward, manes streaming behind them, tails swirling, then crashing downwards in a mighty surge of foam. A moment more and they were gone as if they had never been.

~o*o~

That night, they had dinner in a private chamber. They were all too tired to eat in the Great Hall with everyone else.

Near the end of dinner, Peter stood up, wine glass in one hand.

"I have an announcement to make." He began.

Everyone grew silent.

"Well," he went red, "Eva and I…I mean, Eva and me-"

"You were right the first time," Edmund cut in.

"Anyhow-" Peter continued.

"Don't say it!" Susan jumped up and clapped her hands. "You're finally going to get married! I just knew it!"

"Finally?" Peter said. "But-"

Susan ran to him and kissed him, then kissed Eva, then kissed Peter again.

"Please let me make your wedding dress!" Susan exclaimed.

"Me?" Peter squeaked.

"Not _you,_ you dunce," Susan laughed.

"When will it be?" Lucy asked, her eyes shining. "I never suspected anything!"

"I thought something strange was going on," Edmund said thoughtfully.

~o*o~

It was several days later that Peridan returned with his brother and Xenon where they were tearfully received by Clyte and smilingly greeted by the kings and queens.

"He's been getting better slowly," Baeth explained to Peter as he held up his sister and was in turn held up by Peridan. "He came out of his coma all of a sudden and I found him wondering around wondering where he was. We were both getting better by leaps and bounds after that."

Xenon said nothing, only clasped Peter's hand when it was offered him.

"I am very glad to see you on your feet, old friend," Peter said. "Last time I saw you, you looked like something the cat dragged in."

"Well, I can't remember if I felt like it or not," Xenon said; he looked around himself, with a faint smile. "Cair Paravel. It is beautiful. I've dreamed of her night and day since I left. It is good to be back, but so different. All the people I knew are gone. I thank the Lion that you'll never have to know what it's like to be gone from a place for more than a hundred years."

~o*o~

There was a stunned silence in the kingdom and those surrounding on hearing that the High King was planning upcoming nuptials. King Lune sent hearty congratulations while adding, "Well, well! What news! am I invited?"; Lord Peridan announced that he was 'struck dumb' (Peter offered his thanks); Flavis declared that the whole thing was 'Horrendously lovely news' (Peter was slightly worried by this reaction); Martin on the other hand was firm, "I _hope _you don't expect me to wear flowers in my tail or other such foolishness...because I _won't."_ (Peter assured him that this would not be the case); Mr. Tumnus declared that he was 'completely undone' (Peter patiently offered thanks); Prince Cor of Archenland offered his 'gratest congadulasions' (spelled just so); while Prince Corin exclaimed in heavy print, "Wow! You're getting married? You're old!" (Peter agreed and asked him not to rub it in, then proceeded to warn him, "You are not coming if you don't start behaving. Tormenting Ladies doesn't get you very far. And that bit about getting Cor stuck in the well..." ).

After that preparations for the wedding went on full blast. Eustace had been sketching cakes on the backs of envelopes for days. Susan had been working overtime on the white silk that would be Eva's wedding dress. Lucy was figuring out exactly what decorations would he hung in the throne room. King Lune, Cor, Corin and Aravis arrived three weeks early to watch the proceedings. Poor Eva was nearly swept off her feet by well-wishers and Peter went on long celebratory gallops.

All was joy. The people rejoiced. The wars were over and now there would be peace. The leaves on the trees had taken on brilliant hues; the colors were just at their peak. Martin stopped overseeing the work on his rocky fortress to come to Cair Paravel especially so he could get in the way. Equus and Flavis spent long hours in the library vaults getting covered from head to hoof with spider webs and dust as they tried to find all the tomes they could on Narnian ceremony.

Chibb watched from a high perch while the Throne Room and Great Hall were scrubbed form flagstone to vaulted ceiling. Shard, Loki and Treve sang along while the choirs who would sing the wedding march rehearsed at Dancing Lawn.

All was joy, but it would not last.

~o*o~

Peter was in his study doing paperwork on the Squirrel Issue, thinking, as he always did that he would finally get something _other_ than that done. It had been an unpleasant case and he was glad to draw up the final papers that could be filed away and forgotten forever.

He settled down, sharpened his pen and proceeded to fill several pages with his illegible scrawl.

"Blast!" he said at last, looking down at it, "_I_ can't even read it."

"There is a fine line between your handwriting and chicken tracks," Edmund's voice informed him from the window. "It would take a cryptographer to decode it."

Peter glanced up to see Edmund swinging in over the window sill to stand on the floor.

"I just climbed pass the window of Susan and Lucy's sitting room," he continued, coiling up a rope over his arm. "They're sewing the wedding dress with a vengeance."

"Where'd you start?" Peter asked, slapping a new page of paper down on his desk and starting to write again, painfully slow, attempting to make each letter as they were supposed to be made.

"Usual place," Edmund said, "I climbed down the top tower, walked down the ledge next to the throne room, then dropped down here. This place is so penetrable it's not funny. You know Peter, why don't you just get a scribe to write it for you? This try is no better than the last time around."

The hairs on the back of Peter's neck rose as he imagined the method Edmund had taken to arrive. The whole route was more than fifty feet above the ground.

"Well," Peter said, "If an enemy had an army of tightrope walkers, then we'd have been taken long ago. Fortunately most people are normal and afraid of heights."

"Normal?" Edmund snorted. "You go green when you just look down a cliff. I don't call that normal."

"Isn't it normal to be afraid of falling to a painful death?" Peter asked.

"Don't be afraid and you won't fall," Edmund reasoned, sitting down on the arm of Peter's chair. Peter pushed him off.

"Aye," Peter said, "But there's the rub."

"So what did you want this to say?" Edmund asked, taking the pen and writing 'The Squirrel Issue' in beautiful scrolling letters at the top of a new page.

"Um," Peter said, then stopped. There was a tapping at the door, "Enter!"

~o*o~

They were all going about their respective tasks that evening when they were summoned to the High King's study.

They all trooped in, laughing, but Peter was not laughing as he sat behind his desk, his head in his hands. There was silence as they looked at him. Edmund was sitting on the edge of the desk, his face grim.

At last Peter looked up.

"The giants," he said heavily, "Have attacked our northern border."

There was a stunned silence.

"It happened this morning at around four-thirty," Peter continued. "The men I sent up there to assess the situation sent a messenger. They captured one of their henchmen, a human. He told them that they thought they would attack us while we were distracted with the wedding."

"Not now!" Susan exclaimed at last, sinking into a chair, "Not this! Not when we were all so happy!"

"How dare they!" Eva exclaimed.

"What's going to happen?" Lucy asked.

"We'll have to go fight them." Peter said simply.

"Not you," Eustace said, "I'll go, you stay, you've been through too much this year all ready."

"Eustace," Peter said, "It's going to take all our strength to defeat them."

"What about the wedding?" Susan asked.

"It will have to be put off," Peter said heavily, "I'm sorry, Eva."

There was silence.

"When will you leave?" Eva asked.

"As soon as we can get the army mustered. Most of it is already there, it just came back from Drachanberg with Martin."

There was more silence.

"Wait!" Edmund exclaimed. "Don't say anything!"

Eva rolled her eyes. She felt she had a right to roll her eyes at her soon-to-be brother-in-law.

"How would it be if we went ahead with the wedding?" he said.

"This isn't exactly the time-" Susan began.

"No, no, wait, listen," Edmund said, "The giants attacked us because they thought we were busy thinking about weddings and such. If we _had _the wedding and left in secret during the night, we would be several hours ahead of their spies. I'm sure there was more than just the one we caught."

Peter looked thoughtful, "We could have it tomorrow while the army is mustering. It's the autumn feast anyway."

"But I'm not even near to ready!" Eustace exclaimed. "The Great Hall has to be decorated-"

"It's already decorated for the autumn feast," Peter said. "We could sort of mix the two together."

"What about the cake? New invitations have to be sent out _tonight_ if you want guests to come tomorrow, the choir hasn't finished rehearsing, Susan says she hasn't finished the hem on Eva's wedding dress-"

"You'll manage," Peter said, grinning, "What about it, Eva? It's your wedding, if you don't want to do it, we won't. It's entirely up to you."

"I _hope_ you'll be there too," Eva said sourly.

"I intend to be," Peter said. "No power on earth shall keep me from it."

"Well, in _that_ case," Eva laughed, "Why not? Just…" she added under her breath, "Don't get yourself killed, or I'll never speak to you again."

~o*o~

The wedding dress was perhaps the most pressing thing to get finished that night; every single woman from the weaving rooms worked by candlelight on it to get the embroidery done.

"I can't help wondering if it's worth it," Eva said after pricking herself for the nth time.

Eustace was in the kitchens, wildly mixing up cake batter and sending pages flying back and forth with instructions on decorating the Great Hall. Peter sat up, with Martin, figuring out the strategy for the next day.

Edmund went to bed.


	79. White Lilies, Red Roses

White Lilies, Red Roses

* * *

><p><em>If you live to be 100, I hope I live to be 100 minus 1 day, so I never have to live without you.<em>

~ A. A. Mile

* * *

><p>Eva only slept about four hours. They had finished the dress and it hung in the closet, each stitch perfect. The silk satin had looked so beautiful in the candlelight that she had been almost felt like crying when she had tried it on at last.<p>

Her dreams were plagued by nightmares and a dark fear that refused to lift from her soul.

"Oh Aslan," she whispered, "Let him be safe."

The sun had woken her.

She sat up, her arms around her knees, then slid out of bed. She slipped into a skirt and a laced bodice, then made her way outside into the garden.

~o*o~

After thrashing out the last details with Martin, Peter had slept like a log. He had no worries, he hardly ever did. At least, not real ones.

He woke early and decided on an early morning gallop. Early morning gallops cure anything.

He slipped outside.

~o*o~

There were long shadows cast by the rising sun. The sky was brushstrokes of red, then gold, then the deepest blue. Each leaf, each blade of grass stood out in brilliant contrast. There was silence. The tall windows of the Great Hall reflected the light of the morning sky as surely as mirrors. Eva turned to look at them and she could see little wisps of clouds and a raven, as it circled slowly around the sky.

"You're up early."

She spun around to see Peter and subconsciously curtseyed.

Smiling, he bowed and kissed her hand, "My lady."

"I was just looking at the view," she said, "You can see it all from here. The harbor…"

She looked turned and looked out to sea and saw the silhouettes of the ships and they circled at anchor, the silver tide pouring past. The clouds had gone the most delicate shade of pink.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she said and her voice caught in her throat.

"You're not scared are you?" Peter asked gently, "The ceremony won't last very long. Anyway, we've practiced it so many times I bet you could do it in your sleep. I know I could."

"It's not the ceremony I'm afraid of," Eva said.

"The giants?" Peter asked.

She nodded.

"Don't worry, they won't hurt you, we'll take care of them in no time."

"I'm not worried about _me,_ you dunce, I'm worried about _you_." Eva snapped. "What if one decided to step on you or something like that? Then what?"

"Well," Peter gazed out to sea, to the east and the mist on the horizon. "I believe that there is a time to die just as surely as there is a time to live."

The sun burned bright on the horizon, then slipped behind a cloud, light poured down like misty rain to the sea. There was a glittering golden path across the tossing waves. Each blade of grass at their feet glowed with golden veined light.

"Susan will be looking for you," Peter said. "She'll want to do your hair or something like that."

"She will," Eva said, "Who's giving the bride away, do you know? My father wasn't coming from the Lone Islands until next week."

"He doesn't know yet," Peter said, "but Edmund is. After all, he's done it in all the practices."

Eva laughed, "Oh poor thing."

They turned to hear a rattle of carriage wheels and the clatter of horse's hooves. The carriage of the duke and duchess of something-or-other swept into sight and turned into the courtyard of the palace. Close behind it came the coach and four of lord-what-ever with the landau of baron what's-his-face hard on its wheels.

"The guests are already arriving?" Eva said.

"People have been camped out at the castle gates since the criers went through Paravel last night announcing our change in plans."

"They must be crazy."

"Or maybe just insane," Peter said. "We must consider the possibilities."

Eva laughed, then turned to him seriously. "If you step on my toe during the ceremony I'll never speak to you again."

"I think I'll be fortunate if you even _look _at me after today," Peter said, laughing. "We should probably go in; Susan'll think you jumped ship."

"You mean you don't want to stay here talking to your 'twoo wuv'?" Eva asked, coyly.

Peter stopped dead and turned around, "My _what?"_

Eva laughed and caught his hand, "Come on, let's go in."

~o*o~

Eva stood. And stood. Susan was doing her hair, and one move- one move mind you- would end in disaster. She had to bend herself into peculiar positions, looking, as Lucy said, as if she was defying gravity itself. Better to defy gravity itself then Susan when Susan was in a tear.

Then they were lacing up the wedding dress which Eva was sure must have taken ten hours at least. Then Susan adjusted the train and Eva stepped on a stray pin that had somehow run away, and there was some time spent sitting down (Eva was very thankful). Lucy was wearing frilly pink, her golden ringlets hanging down her back and caught up with white roses. Susan wore lavender of a similar style as Lucy's and looked, Eva thought quite frankly, simply ravishing.

They, Susan and Lucy, spent some time searching for Susan's diamond earrings; one was found in Susan's jewelry box and the other was found under the bed, carefully tied around a baby squirrel with a bit of stray silk ribbon. The baby squirrel was rather adamant about _not_ giving it up, but Susan finally got it in exchange for one of the candies she kept for visitors to her rooms.

"You'll have to wear my diamond necklace too," Susan said, giving the earrings to Eva.

Lucy jumped as a handful of gravel hit the window. She trotted over and looked out.

"You naughty boy," she said on seeing Peter staring up from the garden. "Go away!"

"Aw," Peter said. "My wedding day and everybody is being so cruel to me. Eustace won't let me into the Great Hall, Edmund is guarding the cake with a vengeance, King Lune is whispering with Lord Peridan in the hallway – I think it's all highly unkind – even the cooks won't let me swipe anything from the kitchen."

"I don't blame them," Lucy laughed, dimpling, "why don't you go for a ride with Cor and Corin?"

"Not a bad idea…how's Eva holding up?"

"I stepped on a pin!" Eva called.

"Hmm, with that on her record she won't mind me stepping on her foot now and again."

"Go away you great troll!" Eva called.

Peter grinned, "I think she's holding up fine."

Lucy turned away from the window, grinning.

"He's as tight as a spring," she said, "I think he's really nervous."

~o*o~

Eva was really nervous when the Treve came to say it was time. She was rising up and down on her toes, a thing that drove everybody but herself quite nutty.

"Wait, wait," Treve said importantly, "There's a messenger coming."

He stepped aside as another page came through the door, a centaur this time.

"My lady," he said bowing and handing Eva a velvet covered box.

"What's this?" she asked, glancing at Susan. Susan smiled and shook her head.

"Open it and see."

Eva opened it. Nestled amidst ivory watered silk was a necklace; it was very simple and delicate, made of emeralds and pearls, fashioned in such a way that it appeared to be a vine with tiny white flowers.

"How lovely," Eva said softly, "There're earrings too."

"Quick," Susan said, "Put it on!"

There was a moment of fumbling with the clasp, then Lucy swept Eva's veil aside and Eva felt the cold lightness of the necklace as Susan fastened it on.

"Here's your bouquet," Susan said. "And mind your veil; don't catch it on fire when you light the candle, it's just the sort of thing you'd do. Let's go, we're late already."

Eva was swept out into the hallway, nearly turned her ankle, and was rushed onward by Susan and Lucy. Treve called encouragement. They were met half way by Edmund, smiling quietly.

"I was just informed – only just, mind you – that I'm giving away the bride," he said, offering his hand. "Believe me, I won't enjoy it."

"How sweet of you," Eva said.

It was in an anteroom that the wedding party assembled. Two girls, one of them Aravis, the other Dara, to scatter petals; Corin halfheartedly juggling the ring; Cor looking nervous; Susan looking grand; then Eva and a scowling Edmund and finally Lucy, trotting after to see that Eva's train didn't snag on some unsuspecting hedgehog or other prickly guest.

"You're really not enjoying this, are you?" Eva asked, glancing at Edmund.

"Nope."

"You're _scared_?" Eva asked, "After all those battles you've fought, you're scared of a crowd of people who love you? You're _scared_?"

"To death," Edmund replied simply.

The high voices of the choir began to sing, there was light ahead from the massive windows of the Throne Room, and there was a sea of faces, a colored blur, and a soft sound as they turned to look at her. Her heart gave one sudden thump, then she was perfectly calm. Edmund's hand was damp in hers and he'd gone pale.

To the right and left, she saw familiar and dear faces. Xenon, in simple clothes, yet his head held high, Baeth was next to him, looking years older than he really was. Glumkin was almost lost in the crowd. There was Tamash, laughing, his brain crammed with Narnian customs, Horeb, his face disfigured, stood next to him. Lady Clyte and her brother Peridan stood next to Baeth. There were Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, there was the faun Tumnus, there were Shard and Loki, the fox Treve, Flavis the centaur and Martin the warrior, his face stony, but his eyes laughing.

Susan glided ahead of them, Eva and Edmund, stepping into the deep red rug leading to the dais. Eva saw Peter standing there in crown and glittering mail. He seemed to be a hundred miles away, but he was smiling, and she smiled back.

"Why did you have to get married?" Edmund asked softly.

"Well I'm certainly not doing it for your benefit!" Eva replied.

"I can tell."

"Edmund," Eva hissed, "If I was marrying you, I'd put poison in your wine."

Edmund glanced at her, suddenly smiling, "Eva my dear," he replied quietly, "If I were marrying you, I'd drink it."

The walk to the dais was the longest of Edmund's life, short of the day he was crowed. That was worse in a way, because he had been walking alone. They reached the steps and climbed them. Equus stood between the thrones looking very old and young and wise all at the same time. Peter stood beside him looking noble and Eustace stood beside Peter in a striking pose. King Lune stood on the other side, looking enormously pleased.

"What, arguing already?" Peter whispered as he took Eva's hand from Edmund's, "That's not allowed until afterwards."

There was a moment of silence as the singing stopped and Equus took a breath and opened his mouth.

"Squeeeeeeeee!"

All eyes turned just to the right of the dais. A baby squirrel (the same baby squirrel with the earring) hurtled over the balcony overhead, sailed through the air and landed squarely on the High King's head. It balanced there, petrified, all fur standing on end. Carefully, Peter lifted him down and handed him to Eustace and Equus opened his mouth again.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of Aslan, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony…"

Eva hardly remembered the ceremony. She remembered light and the sea of faces; she remembered Peter's hand in hers, warm and firm. She remembered Equus face, bright, always seeming to be lit by an inward fire. And she remembered saying the Words at last.

"I Eva take thee Peter to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to Aslan's ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth." They told her afterwards that her voice had rung through the Throne Room.

And then, that light filled room was filled with rose petals, fluttering in great clouds from the balcony. She didn't remember lighting the candle (or burning a hole in her veil), she didn't even remember the ring, but she remembered walking back with Peter through that sea of petals to the great entrance to the Throne Room.

* * *

><p>The End<p>

* * *

><p><em>Promise me you'll never forget me because if I thought you would I'd never leave. <em>

~ A. A. Milne

* * *

><p><strong>A note from the desk of the Authors:<strong> Now, dear readers, we have at last reached the conclusion of our narrative. We extend all our thanks to your patience during this time. Your help and advice so kindly offered has been of inestimable value and we dearly hope that you will aid us again when we post more stories of our own devising.

The next story to be posted is named _What Fools These Mortals Be_ and takes place some years after the events of _The Horse and His Boy_ in the kingdom of Archenland. It is book verse and not an Alternate Universe which probably will come as welcome news to many of you.

After that, if it ever is finished, is _The Prince_ which is a retelling of _Prince Caspian _and follows our dear heroes and heroines in their journeys in both England in Narnia. It is, like _The Horse That Stole the Boy, _an Alternate Universe, though we believe it has kept the spirit of the book.

In the mean time, we would love to hear what you think of our other stories already published.

Many thanks and God bless you all,

~Rose and Psyche

**Hannah Skipper: **Thank you for your reviews! I think that this chapter should answer most of your questions. As far as we know there is no difference between saltwater and freshwater kelpies. We hope that Ollie brings you joy, we are officially envious!

And thanks to the anonymous reviewer as well!


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